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RECOLLECTIONS 




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RECOLLECTIONS 



MIRABEAU, 



AND OF THE 



TWO FIRST LEGISLATIVE ASSEMBLIES 



FRANCE. 



BY 



ETIENNE DUMONT 



OF GENEVA. 



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CAREY & LEA— CHESTNUT STREET 
1833. 



({ JUL ^ 1B8E 



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CONTENTS 



Preface by the English Editor. . . xviii 

Preface by the Genevese Editor. . . . xxiii 



CHAPTER I. y 

Motives which induced the author to write these 
Recollections. The revolution of Geneva in 1789, 
determines his departure for Paris with M. Du- 
roverai. Desire of taking advantage of M, Nec- 
ker's return to office to do something in favour of 
the Genevese exiles. Origin of the author's 
acquaintance with Mirabeau. Journey to Paris 
with Sir Samuel Romilly in 1788. Mirabeau's 
residence in England in 1784. His activity and 
industry as a writer. His reputation at Paris in 
1788. First interview with Mirabeau. Some 
traits of his private character. His work on the 
Prussian monarchy. Major Mauvillon the princi- 
pal author. Quarrel between M. de Calonne and 
M. Necker about the deficit. M. Necker's answer. 
Mirabeau forms the project of replying. Why he 



Vi CONTENTS. 

abandons it. Visit to Bicetre and the Salpetriere. 
Romilly writes an energetic description of them. 
Mirabeau translates it. Discussion between Mira- 
beau, de Bourges and Claviere. Dupont de Ne- 
mours. Anecdotes. Champfort. A saying of 
Mirabeau on Champfort. General feeling in polite 
circles at Paris. Some traits of the private cha- 
racter of Sir Samuel Romilly. Note given to the 
author by Mirabeau. . . . . . 41 



CHAPTER II. 

Journey from London to Paris in 1789. Elections 
of deputies at the bailliages. Regulations for the 
election, made whilst breakfasting at Montreuil- 
sur-Mer. Success of these regulations. Inter- 
view with M. Necker. Residence at Claviere's at 
Surene. Committees at Claviere's and Brissot's. 
The Duke de la Rouchefoucauld. Confusion of 
ideas at this period. Saying of Lauraguais. 
Right of representation claimed by Palissot. As- 
sem.bly of the sections. Difficulty of proceeding. 
Assembly of electors. M. Duval-d'Espremenil. 
M. de Lauraguais, bourgeois of Paris, Opening 
of the states-general. Aspect of the tiers-Hat. 
Reflection upon the verification of the powers. 61 



CHAPTER in. 

How Mirabeau was situated in the assembly, on the 
opening of the states-general- His bitterness 



CONTENTS. VU 

against the assembly. Conversations on this sub- 
ject. The author engages him to be more mode- 
rate. Intimacy between Mirabeau and Duroverai. 
Little committees. Duroverai's plan for bringing 
Necker and Mirabeau together. Adopted by Mal- 
louet. Difficulty of an interview. It takes place. 
Mirabeau's saying on Necker. Embassy to Con- 
stantinople. Ottoman Encyclopaedia. Mirabeau's 
first triumph at the tribune. Debut of Robespierre. . 
Efiect of his speech. Saying of M. Reybaz con- 
cerning him. Sieyes, his character and habits. 
The bishop of Chartres. Anecdotes of this pre- 
late • . . 73 



CHAPTER IV. 

Inaction of the tiers during the disputes of the orders. 
Its effect upon the public. Motion of Sieyes upon 
the title of the assembly. Title of national as- 
sembly proposed. This question debated between 
the author, Duroverai and Mirabeau. The latter 
determines to oppose this title. Speech written by 
the author in the hall of the assembly. Mirabeau 
adopts it. Its effect upon the assembly. Author's 
anxiety. Sieyes's motion carried. Its effect. Du- 
roverai forms the plan of a royal session. Mallouet 
undertakes to communicate it to Necker. This 
plan concealed from Mirabeau. It is spoiled by 
the influence of the court party. Royal session. 
Its effect upon the assembly and the public. Re- 
flections. Circumstance which determined Nec- 
ker to absent himself. Mirabeau's anger against 



viii CONTBNTSo 

Duroveraio What he thinks of Necker. His 
opinion upon the session. .... 92 



CHAPTER V. 

Agitation of the people after the royal session. 
Cause of this agitation. Saying of Sieyes on the 
Breton club. Attitude of the court. Arrival 
of troops. Mirabeau's speech. Address to the 
king. Mirabeau undertakes to write it. Con- 
fides this task to the author. Anecdote. General 
uneasiness. Supposed projects of the court. Mi- 
rabeau fears being arrested. Character of the 
king on his arrival. Death of the Marquis de 
Mirabeau. Work upon the events of the revolu- 
tion 112 



CHAPTER VI. 

Courrier de Provence. Its origin. Partnership 
between the author. Duroverai and Mirabeau, 
Success of this journal. Negligence and dishon- 
esty of the bookseller. Annoyances. Embar- 
rassment of Mirabeau. His connexion with 
Madame le Jay. The journal has a new editor. 
It begins to fall. New arrangements. Judg- 
ments upon the Courrier de Provence. What 
ultimately became of it. ... 126 



CONTENTS. Ili IX 



CHAPTER VII. 



Complete union of the orders. Aspect of the as- 
sembly. Address to the people. Mirabeau re- 
quests the author to write it. Cause of its want of 
success. Weakness of the assembly regarding the 
tumults. Fear and mistrust of the government. 
Cause of it. General opinion in favour of the re- 
volution. Causes which led to an alteration in 
their opinion. Work of Burke. Declaration of 
the rights of man. Discussion. Opinion of the 
author and of Mirabeau on this subject. Sitting 
of the 4th of August. Reflection upon it. Anger 
of Sieyes. His opinion. That of Mirabeau upon 
the assembly. Effect of this sitting upon the peo- 
ple 134 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Discussion upon the veto. Marquis de Caseaux and 
his speech. Difficulties of Mirabeau in reading it. 
Anecdote. Public opinion. Improper mode of 
proceeding in the assembly. Impatience of show- 
ing off. Love of making motions. Some traits 
of French character. Compared with the English. 
Regulations by Romilly. Rejected by the assem- 
bly. Opinion of Brissot, Sieyes, &c. upon Eng- 
land. Saying of Duroverai. Mirabeau applies it 
to Mounier. ....... 148 



# 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER IX. 



Camille Desmoulins. LaClos. His connexion with 
Mirabeau. Was Mirabeau acting in concert with 
the Duke of Orleans ? Facts for and against. 
Translation from Milton against royalty. Du- 
roverai prevents its publication. Saying of Mira- 
beau upon the events of Paris. His conduct on 
the 4th and 5th of October. Aspect of the inte- 
rior of the assembly. Anecdotes. Desertion of 
several deputies. . . . . . 159 



CHAPTER X. 

Discussion upon finances. Mirabeau's reasons for 
supporting M. Necker. Effect of his speech. 
Singular compliment paid to Mirabeau by Mole. 
Address to the nation. Mirabeau confides to the 
author the task of writing it. Want of success of 
this address. Mirabeau proposes a vote of thanks 
to Lafayette and Bailly. What determined him. 
Project for bringing Mirabeau into office. Motion 
to prevent it. Civic inscription. Proposal of 
Sieyes. Mirabeau brings it forward. Law con- 
cerning bankrupts. Martial law. . . 173 



CONTENTS. XI 



CHAPTER XI. 

Connexion of Mirabeau with the court. Confidence 
on this subject. Plan of a counter-revolution by 
Mirabeau. King's departure. Basis of the plan. 
Appeal to the nation. Decrees of the assembly 
annulled. Immediate convocation of another as- 
sembly. Surprise of the author. His resolution. 
Conversation and discussion of the plan. Mira- 
beau promises to renounce it. Another mode is 
adopted. The Marquis de Favras. His trial. 
Uneasiness of Mirabeau. Discussion on church 
property. P6Iin author of Mirabeau's speeches 
on this subject. His connexion with Mirabeau. 
Anecdotes. . ..... 186 



CHAPTER XII. 

Mirabeau's habits changed. His house. Luxury. 
Expenses. He refuses to take his father's title. 
Receives 20,000 francs a month. His connexion 
with Prince Louis d'Aremberg. Quarrel between 
Mirabeau, Clavifere and Duroverai. The author 
reconciles them. Gradual election. Idea of the 
author. Mirabeau's motion. Barnave opposes it. 
Mirabeau abandons it. Reflections. . . 203 



XII M CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XIIL 

Author's departure. Motives. Barrere. Barnave. 
Petion. Target. Mnlouet. Volney. Robes- 
pierre. Morellet. Necker. Champfort. Re- 
turn to Paris with Achille Duchatelet. His cha- 
racter. Anecdotes. Conversation vi^ith Mirabeau. 
His connexion with the queen. He directs the 
court party. Report of diplomatic committee. 
Author's share in it. Anecdote. Increased ex- 
pense in Mirabeau's style of living. Remark of 
the author. The Abbe Lamourette, Mirabeau 
president of the assembly. Opinion thereon. Mi- 
rabeau's ill health. His forebodings. Emotion 
on taking leave of the author. He prophecies on 
the fate of France. His death. . . .213 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Private life of Mirabeau. Anecdote on his mar- 
riage. Correspondence with Madame Mounier. 
How he wrote it. Portrait of Mirabeau. Con- 
sidered as an author. Distinctive characteristic of 
his writings. As a political author. His good 
qualities. Defects. Compared with Fox, with 
Barnave. His private habits. As member of the 
assembly. Venality. Saying on this subject. 
Despair at not enjoying a spotless reputation. Plis 
vanity. Saying of the author. Public character 
of Mirabeau. His object Designs, Cause of 



CONTENTS. XIU 

their failure. Charactoristic trait of his genius. 
Political sagacity. Powers of prophecy. Know- 
ledge of mankind. . . . . . 232 



CHAPTER XV. 

Detached anecdotes. Mirabeau's habit of giving 
nicknames. How he designated Sieyes, d'Espre- 
menil, Lafayette, Necker, Claviere. His opinion 
of Washington. Saying concerning the assembly. 
Annoyance at praise bestowed upon mediocrity. 
Saying of the author on this subject. Viscount de 
Mirabeau. Laughable answer. Personal courage 
of Mirabeau. Adored by his domestics. Visit to 
the Bastille. His friendship for Cabanis. Cause 
of his death. Last moments. Legacy to the as- 
sembly. Activity. Hopes of becoming minister. 251 



CHAPTER XVL 

Author's return to Paris. Flight of the king to 
Varennes. Aspect of the assembly. Effect of 
the king's flight upon the people. Shade of Mira- 
beau. Project of a paper. Its object. Why re- 
nounced- Paine at Paris. Confidence of Ducha- 
telet. Placard in favour of the republic. Con- 
dorcet becomes a republican. Claviere, Brissot, 
Petion, &c. discuss the question. Origin of this 
opinion. Condorcct's motives and influence., 
Lameth, Barnave, &c. join the king. The author 
returns to London with Paine. Opinion on this 



XIV CONTENTS. 



writer. Details given by d'Andre on the assem- 
bly. His complaints. Reflections. Supposed 
dialogue between d'Andr6 and his servant, recited 
by Sieyes. 265 



CHAPTER XVn. 

General reflections on the revolution. Its causes. 
Nine causes of the faults of the assembly. Hete- 
rogeneous composition. Bad mode of carrying on 
proceedings. Immutability of constitutional de- 
crees. Fear of a counter-revolution. Emigration. 

• Affiliation and institution of the Jacobins. Wrong 
measures of the court party, &c. Causes of the 
fall of the constitution. Unity of the assembly. 
Absolute independence. Ineligibility of the 
members of the first assembly to the second. Im- 
mutability of the constitutional laws. Opinion on 
the national assembly. Author regrets his want 
of memory and curiosity. .... 284 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Arrival of Petion in London. Object of his journey. 
How accomplished. D'Andre. His character. 
His talents. Persecuted by Brissot. Some par- 
ticulars concerning Brissot's character. Talley- 
rand. Anecdotes. Object in coming to Lon- 
don. Reception by the king and queen. Author 
returns to Paris. Reasons. Accompanies Talley- 
rand and Duroverai. ..... 294 



CONTENTS, XV 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Arrival at Paris. Conversation with Talleyrand. 
Anecdote on the consecration of the clergy. As- 
pect of the legislative aasembly. Divided into 
three parties. The king governed by the Feuil- 
lans. Girondists. Their object. M. de Lessart. 
Impeachment by Brissot. Author reproaches 
Brissot. Reflections. De Graves. Anecdotes. 
Author secretly consulted on the choice of a war 
minister. Speech to bring the Girondists into 
power, made by Gensonne. Petion's speeches. 
Vergniaud. Guadet. Gensonne, Buzot. Rce- 
derer. Condorcet. ..... 304 



CHAPTER XX. 

The author taken to Roland's. Character of the lat- 
ter. Madame Roland. Memoirs. Servan. Lou- 
vet. Lanthenas. Pache. Claviere is appointed 
minister. His life and character. His ambition. 
Activity. Madame Claviere. Her illness. Cause 
of recovery. Legislative assembly and Giron- 
dists. . . 322 



CHAPTER XXL 

Declaration of war against Austria. Reticences in 
the memoirs of Dumouriez. Austrian committee, 



XVI CONTENTS. 

Brissot desirous of war. Duchatelet refutes the 
objection of the desertion of old officers. Din- 
ners at Claviere's and Dumouriez's. Gaiety of 
Louvet and Dumouriez. The latter communicates 
to the author his report on the war. Condorcet's 
weakness. Appointment of an embassy to Eng- 
land. Talleyrand. Chauvelin. Hesitation. Du- 
mouriez puts an end to them. Garat. Embassy 
badly received in London. Pitt and Chauvelin. 
The embassy at Ranelagh. The public shun them. 
The Duke of Orleans. .... 334 



CHAPTER XXH. 

Object of the embassy. Maintenance of peace. 
Work of Garat. 10th of August. Talleyrand 
goes to Paris. Presses the author to accom- 
pany, him. Refusal. Motives. The Genevese 
government request him to proceed to Paris. 
Army at the gates of Geneva. Montesquiou. 
Travels with an Irish quaker who is come to 
France to make proselytes. Arrival at Paris. The 
author determines Brissot and Clavi^re to support ' 
the Genevese treaty. Gasc sent by the republic. 
Dinner at Claviere's. Lebrun's ode. Secret 
confided to the author by Gensonne. Intrigues 
by Grenus. The author proceeds to Geneva. 353 

Appendix. . . . . . . . 369 



PREFACE 



ENGLISH EDITOR 



There is no public character whose actions 
have been more the subject of misrepresenta- 
tion, and over v\^hom calumny has had greater 
sv\^ay, than the Count de Mirabeau. He is 
known in this country rather as one of the 
most profligate promoters of the French revo- 
lution, than as the most extraordinary man 
of his age, in those surpassing endowments 
of mind in which he far surpassed all the 
great luminaries of that brilliant period; and 
it has been reserved for Dumont, a man of 
high character and unsullied principles, to 
rescue his name from the blind obloquy by 



XVlll PREFACE BY 

which it has been so long and so unjustly ob- 
scured. 

With all his vices, and they were by no 
means few, Mirabeau had many redeeming 
qualities. The former have been exaggerated 
with all the virulence of party hatred, while the 
latter have been concealed with equal malignity. 
This is unjust. A man, whatever be his errors, 
should go to posterity with the benefit of his 
good as well as the odium of his evil qualities. 

In these Recollections, Dumont, the friend of 
Mirabeau, has concealed nothing, nor has he "set 
down aught in malice." He has not shrunk 
from the task of exposing the blemishes of a 
master-mind, at the same time that he exhibits 
the splendour of its superior endowments. He 
has candidly stated Mirabeau's good and bad 
qualities without disguise, and while it will ap- 
pear that there is much to despise, it will be 
found that upon the whole, there is perhaps more 
to admire. Justice has been rendered to an 
erring but illustrious man. 

With all his vices, Mirabeau was an ardent 
patriot. The good of his country was mingled 
even With his dying aspirations, and the love 



THE ENGLISH EDITOR. xix 

of France ceased in his heart but with his last 
breath. His great powers of intellect and tran- 
scendant eloquence maintained his popularity 
through all the fluctuating changes attendant 
upon one of the greatest political convulsions 
ever recorded in history ; and by the ascendency 
of his energetic mind, he awed Robespierre and 
the jacobin anarchists into harmless insignifi- 
cance. Had his life been spared, there is no 
doubt that the French revolution would have 
taken another direction, and the horrible ex- 
cesses of the reign of terror never have blackened 
the page of French political regeneration. His 
death was the knell of the French monarchy ; — 
the glory of a long line of kings was buried in 
the grave of Mirabeau. 

Dumont's Recollections contain the most 
valuable materials for history. Facts hitherto 
unknown, the secret causes of many of those 
great and surprising events which have puzzled 
the acutest research of the historian, are laid 
open. However we may regret that the work 
remains unfinished, we cannot but be thankful 
for the abundance of information supplied by 
these Recollections, every page of which is of 



XX PREFACE BY 

momentous interest. Our regret arises from 
the very perfection of the work even in its un- 
finished state ; and had Dumont found leisure 
to fill up the periods connecting its different parts, 
and to give his promised account of the revolu- 
tions of Geneva, subsequent to that of 17S9, 
and in which he was himself an actor, this 
volume would form the completest compendium 
of the French revolution ever given to the public. 
In reflecting upon the events contained in 
this book, the philosophic mind cannot but be 
forcibly struck with the disproportion between 
causes and effects in political convulsions, when 
once the edifice of the state has begun to totter 
upon its foundations. On these occasions, the 
most insignificant circumstance, like the chance 
spark which, unperceived, may slowly spread its 
latent flame and ultimately destroy the noblest 
edifice, often leads to astounding results, even to 
the ruin of states and the overthrow of empires. 
Such was the case in France ;— and such will 
be the case in all revolutions proceeding from 
the same causes. It is a lamentable fact that 
governments founded upon the barbarous re- 
mains of feudality — and most governments of 



THE ENGLISH EDITOR. XXI 

modern ages are in this predicament — naturally 
divide the state into two classes, whose hostility 
to each other is instinctive. A few privileged 
individuals hold the reins of power, and for their 
own interest and advantage, oppress the great 
mass of the people. When at length the latter 
discover and claim their just rights, those rights 
should be fairly and frankly admitted, otherwise 
the authority by whom they are withheld must 
ultimately, even in the absence of tumult and 
bloodshed, be crushed by the inert preponde- 
rance alone of the discontented mass of the 
population. Had this self-evident principle 
been admitted by the blind and bigotted aristo- 
cracy of France, no convulsions would have 
taken place, nor would the freedom of the 
French people have been cemented with blood. 
The inveterate and unjust prejudices of the 
nobles, and more particularly of the members 
of the royal family — which even five and 
twenty years of misfortune and exile could not 
eradicate — ^led immediately to those first excesses 
which showed the people their strength and 
betrayed the weakness of the government. It 
is singular that neither the fruits of experience, 
nor the pangs of personal suflTering, can rectify 



Xxii ENGLISH editor's PREFACE. 

the warpings of the human mind ; and in the 
feelings which, in 1789, induced the Count 
d'Artois to convert the conciliatory object of the 
royal session into the immediate cause of the 
first revolutionary insurrections, may be traced 
the same spirit of bigotry, which in 1830 led 
him, as Charles X, to issue the ordinances by 
which he lost his crown. 

Numerous other examples might be adduced 
which would form a collection of valuable les- 
sons for kings and statesmen. But alas ! man 
profits not by the experience of others — often- 
times not by his own ; and it is not until we 
have obstinately and wickedly brought on the 
evil, that we choose, amid the pangs of tardy 
and useless repentance, to open our eyes to 
truth! 

In oflfering Dumont's ideas to the public in 
an English garb, it only remains for the English 
editor to add that his sole aim has been to give 
the author's meaning with clearness and preci- 
sion. If he has failed, it is not from want of 
zeal and attention. 

G. H. C. 

London, 29ih March, 1832. 



PREFACE 



BY THE 



GENEVESE EDITOR 



It is not my intention to write a biographical 
notice of M. Etienne Dumont. Two illus- 
trious authors, M. de Candolle and M. de Sis- 
mondi, have already paid their tribute of admi- 
ration to the memory of their departed friend 
and fellow-countryman. I cannot do better 
than refer the reader to the Bihliotheque uni- 
verselle^^ and the Revue encyclopedique^-\ in 
which they have deposited, with all the warmth 
of friendship, the expression of their regret at 

* Bihliotheque universelle, November 1829. 
t Revue encyclopediqitc^ vol. 44, p. 258. 



XXIV PREFACE BY 

the loss which our country, science and litera- 
ture have just sustained. 

To render, however, the present work more 
intelligible, it is necessary that I should trace, 
in as rapid a sketch as possible, the principal 
circumstances of the author's life, especially 
those preceding the period to which the work 
alludes. When I have explained his connexion 
with politics and political men, long before 1789, 
and the rank which he has since held, in the 
literary world, it will be more easy to under- 
stand how he, a stranger to France and to the 
great acts of the French revolution, should have 
been able to relate facts hitherto unknown, and 
have acquired the right of passing judgment 
upon men and events. 

M. Etienne Dumont, of Geneva, spent the 
early part of his life in his native country, where 
his talents as a preacher gained him well de- 
served renown. In 1783, he left Geneva, in 
consequence of its political troubles, and went 
to St Petersburgh to join some members of his 
family who had settled there. During a resi- 
dence of eighteen months in this city, he 
was equally successful, and obtained the high 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXV 

consideration due to his merit and noble cha- 
racter. 

He left St Petersburgh in 1785, and went 
to London to reside with Lord Shelburne, then 
a minister of state, who confided to him the 
general education of his sons. Lord Shelburne, 
afterwards Marquis of Lansdowne, soon dis- 
covered the great talents of M. Dumont, whom 
he made his friend. It was in the house of 
this minister that he became acquainted with 
some of the most illustrious men of the country ; 
and amongst others, with Sheridan, Fox, Lord 
Holland, Sir Samuel Romilly and Mr Brougham, 
then a barrister, now Lord High Chancellor of 
England. 

His connexion with these distinguished in. 
dividuals, founded upon friendship, similarity 
of opinions and literary occupations, and the 
pursuit of great objects of public utility, gave 
them full opportunities of appreciating his high 
worth. He was generally known to be a man 
of profound knowledge, correct judgment, irre- 
proachable character, and lively and brilliant 
wit. Each did him justice during his life, and 

D 



XXVI PREFACE BY 

they who have survived him continue to honour 
his memory. 

He formed a very particular intimacy with 
Sir Samuel Romilly, a man equally distinguished 
by his private virtues and his great talents as a 
lawyer and a political orator. The friendship 
which united these two men, increased daily, 
nor did its activity cease till the death of Sir 
Samuel Romilly. M. Dumont was inconsola- 
ble for this loss, and never mentioned his de- 
parted friend without tears. 

In 1788, they undertook a journey to Paris 
together, and it was under Sir Samuel Romilly 's 
auspices that M. Dumont first became acquainted 
with Mirabeau. During a sojourn of two months 
in the French capital, he saw the latter every 
day, and a certain affinity of talents and intel- 
lect led to an ultimate connexion between two 
men so opposed to each other in habits and cha- 
racter. It was on his return from Paris, that 
Dumont began his acquaintance with the cele- 
brated Bentham, which had so complete an in- 
fluence over his future opinions and writingSy 
and fixed, as it were, his career as a writer on 
legislation. 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXVH 

Dumoiit, penetrated with a lively admiration 
for the genius of this extraordinary man, and 
profoundly struck with the truth of his theory 
and the consequences to w^hich it so naturally 
led, applied all his talents to make the writings 
of the English publicist known, and devoted 
the greater part of his life in rendering availa- 
ble to the world at large, the exhaustless store 
of knowledge which the ever active genius of 
Mr Bentham was always increasing.* 

In 1789, M. Dumont suspended his labours 
in England to proceed to Paris with M. Duro- 
verai, ex- attorney-general of the republic of 
Geneva. The object of this journey was to ob- 
tain, through the return of M. Necker to office, 
and the events then passing in France, an unre- 
stricted restoration of Genevese liberty, by can- 

* The following works are the result of this labour : 1° Trea- 
tises on legislation^ published in 1822, in 3 vols, 8vo, now in 
their third edition ; 2° Theory of punishments and rewards^ 2 
vols, 8vo, also in its third edition ; 3" Tactics of legislative 
assemblies, two editions, 1815 and 1822 ; 4° Judicial evidence, 
published in 1823, and a second edition in 1830 j 5«* Judicial 
organization and codification, 1 vol. published in 1828. I do 
not here mention the numerous editions published in foreign 
countries. 



XXVlll PREFACE BY 

celling the treaty of guarantee between France 
and Switzerland, which prevented the republic 
from enacting new laws without the consent of 
the parties to this treaty. The necessary steps 
to which this mission gave rise, brought M. 
Dumont into connexion with most of the lead- 
ing men in the constituent assembly, and made 
him an interested spectator, sometimes a par- 
ticipator in the events of the French revolution. 
The importance of the changes about to be 
operated, and the immense interest which this 
period inspired, determined M. Dumont to 
follow closely the course of events. Like all 
the other generous and elevated minds in Eu- 
rope, he offered up his vows for the realization 
of the great hopes to w^hich the first proceed- 
ings of the national assembly had given rise, 
and was desirous of assisting at occurrences 
which he considered the forerunners of a new 
political era. His former acquaintance with 
Mirabeau was renewed immediately after his 
return to Paris, and it contributed to prolong 
his residence in France, during which he co- 
operated in many of the works of that cele- 
brated man ; but being afterwards attacked in 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. xxix 

pamphlets and other periodicals as one of Mi- 
rabeau's writers, he felt much hurt at his name 
being mentioned publicly, and determined to 
return to England. The reputation of being a 
subaltern writer was, as he himself states, by no 
means flattering, and that of an influential con- 
nexion with a man whose character was not 
untainted, alarmed his delicacy. From that 
period he sedulously employed his time in pre- 
paring Mr Bentham's manuscripts for publica- 
tion. 

In 1814, the restoration of Geneva to inde- 
pendence, induced M. Dumont to return to that 
city, which, subsequently, he never quitted for 
any length of time. Until 1829, he devoted 
his talents to his country, to which he rendered 
very eminent services. It would be a w^ork of 
supererogation to recall his claims to the grati- 
tude of his fellow-citizens. All know and 
acknowledge how much they are indebted to 
his patriotism and devotion ; and to the general 
mass of readers such details would present but 
little interest. In the autumn of 1829, he 
undertook a tour of pleasure to the north of Italy 
in company with one of his friends, M. Bellamy 



XXX PREFACE BY 

Aubert;* and his family were impatiently 
expecting his return, when they received the 
news of his death. They who were intimate 
with him can alone appreciate the charm which 
his goodness of heart, his active benevolence, 
and his great talents threw around him. He 
loved to encourage youth, and could make him- 
self the companion of all who approached him. 
Men of all ages and professions were sure to find, 
in his inexhaustible kindness and remarkable 
conversation, interest, advice, information and 
pleasure. 

Among the many unpublished works which 
M. Dumont's friendship, much more than his 
thirst for renown, confided to my care, I have 
selected for publication, in preference to any 
other, the one which appeared to me the best 
calculated to make him known in a literary 

* I cannot suffer this opportunity to pass without publicly 
expressing the gratitude entertained by M. Dumont's family 
towards M. Bellamy Auberf, whose active friendship and affec- 
tionate attentions soothed the last moments of his friend. This 
consolatory circumstance, in so painful an event, can alone in 
some degree assuage the grief produced by a death so unexpected, 
which at a distance from his family and country, carried off a 
man in whose heart the love of both predominated. 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXXI 

capacity different from that upon which he 
founded his honourable fame. It also appeared 
to me that a work, like the present, would 
diminish in value, in proportion to the distance 
of its publication from the events it records and 
the persons whom it makes known. This work, 
besides, contains materials for history which it 
is but just to submit to the judgment and criti- 
cism of those best able to appreciate them, I 
mean the contemporaries of the great epoch to 
which they refer. I must likewise state that 
of M. Dumont's other posthumous works, some 
are not finished, whilst others, written by parts 
and at different times, are not in a fit state to 
appear before the public. A last work of revi- 
sion is yet necessary for the purpose either of 
placing the different detached portions in the 
order pointed out by their author, or of separa- 
ting the parts that are terminated and publishing 
them in a miscellaneous form. But all these 
reasons, derived from the subject itself, were not 
the only ones which fixed my determination. 
I was influenced in my choice principally from 
a desire of showing M. Dumont in a work en- 
tirely his own. Hitherto he has been known 



XXXll PREFACE BY 

in the literary and scientific world only as the 
propagator of M. Bentham's ideas, and few are 
able to appreciate the full merit of his labours. 
M. Dumont had no literary ambition; satisfied 
with the esteem of the distinguished individuals 
who knew him, he considered himself suffi- 
ciently rewarded by the consciousness of having 
contributed to the happiness of mankind by the 
propagation of useful ideas; and he never 
sought, I will not say to raise his fame at the 
expense of that which his celebrated friend had 
so justly earned, but even to claim the share of 
renown to which he was really entitled. His 
own thoughts and ideas merged in those of Mr. 
Bentham, and he gave the whole to the public 
under the name of that great publicisty without 
ever troubling his head about the portion of 
honour and esteem which he should derive from 
them. But if such unequal participation suited 
M. Dumont's modesty, it is no less incumbent 
upon me to endeavour to place him in the rank 
which is his due. God forbid, however, that 
I should desire here to raise a controversy, by 
claiming for M. Dumont all or the principal 
part of the merit belonging to the works which 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXxiii 

appeared under the name of Mr Bentham. It 
would be against evidence, and would, moreover, 
be a violation of the respect I owe to M. Du- 
mont's memory ; for the latter did not cease, 
to the end of his life, expressing his enthusiastic 
admiration of the English publicist* My 

* This is what he wrote a few days before his death : "What 
I most admire is, the manner in which Mr Bentham has laid 
down his principle, the development he has given to it, and the 
rigorous logic of his inductions from it. The first book of the 
Treatises on legislation, is an art of reasoning upon this princi- 
ple, of distinguishing it from the false notions which usurp its 
place, of analyzing evil, and of showing the strength of the 
legislator in the four sanctions, natural, moral, political, and 
religious. The whole is new, at least with regard to method 
and arrangement, and they who have attacked the principle 
generally, have taken good care not to make a special attack 
upon the detailed exposition of the system. Egotism and mate- 
rialism ! How absurd ! Nothing but vile declamation and 
insipid mummery ! Look into the catalogue of pleasures, for 
the rank which the author assigns to those of benevolence, and 
see how he finds in them the germ of all social virtues ! His 
admirable Treatise upon the indirect means of preventing crime^ 
contains, among others, three chapters sufficient to pulverise all 
those miserable objections. One is on the cultivation of benevo- 
lence, another on the proper use of the motive of honour, and 
the third on the importance of religion when maintained in a 
proper direction ; that is to say, of that religion which conduces 
to the benefit of society. I am convinced that Fenelon himself, 
£ 



XXxiv PREFACE BY 

design is solely to prove, that if M. Dumont 
consented to work in the second rank, if he 
preferred in some sort to abandon his own stock, 
and cultivate the ideas of another, it was the 
eJQTect of choice, not necessity ,• and nothing can 
answer my purpose better, than the publication 
of a book written solely by himself, which shows 
in detail, and by precise facts, the high conside- 
ration which he enjoyed from the celebrated 
men with whom he lived, and proves the depth 

would have put his name to every word of this doctrine. Con- 
sider the nature and number of Mr Benthara's works ; see what 
a wide range he has taken in legislation ; and is it not acknow- 
ledged, that no man has more the character of originality, 
independence, love of public good, disinterestedness, and noble 
courage in braving the dangers and persecutions which have 
more than once threatened his old age ? His moral life is us 
beautiful as his intellectual. Mr Benthara passes in England, 
whether with justice or not I am unable to determine, for the 
chief, I mean the spiritual chief, of the radical party. His name, 
therefore, is not in good repute with those in power, or those 
who see greater dangers than advantages in a reform, especially 
a radical reform. I do not pretend to give an opinion, either 
for or against, but it must be understood, that he has never enjoy- 
ed the favour either of government or of the high aristocracy ; 
and this must guide, even in other countries, those who desire not 
to commit themselves ; for Mr Bentham's ensign leads neither 
to riches nor to power. 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXXV 

and correctness of his judgment, the elegance 
of his mind, his feelings of high honour, and 
gives, besides, a specimen of his own powers of 
composition. It will also be seen, in this work, 
how often men of eminence had recourse to his 
counsels, his information and his pen ; whence 
it may be inferred, that if he afterwards con- 
sented to become second to Mr Bentham, it was 
not from the speculation of an inferior mind, 
incapable of proceeding alone, and who would 
consider such an association as a real honne- 
fortune, but rather from that true modesty, 
which made him, provided the good were done, 
care little to whom it was attributed. 

M. Dumont by no means looked upon these 
Recollections as a finished work. He spoke of 
them as a sketch which he intended to go over 
again and complete. He intended them as notes 
upon things and persons ; as materials for a his- 
torical work of a higher order than simple 
memoirs; — ^but he alone could have made it 
complete, and I should consider it a breach of 
duty on my part, had I endeavoured to supply 
the deficiencies or omissions which may be 
remarked in it, or attempted to finish it even 



XXXVl PREFACE BY 

according to the plan he had himself laid down 
when talking on the subject. 

Whatever regret we may feel that the sudden 
death of the author should have prevented the 
completion of this work, it will nevertheless 
remain as one of the most interesting sources 
of information and research for the history of 
the period to which it refers. 

M. Dumont's intimacy with the principal 
personages of that epoch, and particularly with 
Mirabeau, afforded him the knowledge of many 
facts unknown to most of those who have writ- 
ten upon the same subject ; and besides obser- 
vations on the general events of the revolution, 
these Recollections contain a number of anec- 
dotes never published, and statements concern- 
ing persons and things, more or less important, 
no doubt, but which are all of great interest. 

What appears to me more particularly to add 
to the merit of this work, and distinguish it 
from every production of the same kind, is 
that M. Dumont, a stranger to France, would 
never consent, from a sentiment of propriety 
which does him much credit— very rare at that 
period — to take an active part in the events 



THE GENEVESE EDITOR. XXXVll 

which passed before his eyes, nor exercise any- 
public functions. He has, therefore, nothing to 
conceal, nor any motive for altering facts in 
order to present his own conduct in a more 
favourable light. His love of freedom and his 
great talents made him the confidant of great 
projects, and a contributor to important works, 
but never in any other capacity than as the 
friend or adviser of the real authors. The 
instant this association of intellect and talents 
attracted the public attention, and he perceived 
that the hopes he had founded on the patriotism 
of those with whom he was connected, faded 
before a sad reality, he hastened to abandon 
the place he occupied, and withdrew. 

I have only another word to say ; it is res- 
pecting the opinions formed by M. Dumont up- 
on the proceedings of the constituent assembly. 
Perhaps his judgments may be deemed severe; 
but if the period, when he wrote his Recollec- 
tions, be taken into consideration, that is to say 
1799, when not many years had elapsed since 
the disorders into which anarchy had plunged 
France — and it be recollected that when he 
went to Paris, he had already resided several 



XXXVlll PREFACE BY 

years in England, it may seem less surprising 
that he should sometimes express strong disap- 
probation. Looking at the proceedings of the 
national assembly, over which a thoughtless and 
enthusiastic heat too often presided, he naturally 
assumed as his point of comparison, the prudent 
slowness and regular form of the English par- 
liament. This contrast must have struck him 
painfully, and he might have been the more 
induced to blame what he saw, because the 
labours of the constituent assembly did not pro^ 
duce the results anticipated by every friend of 
freedom. He would judge differently now, 
when subsequent events have placed this great 
epoch in its proper light. The action of time, 
which effaces or softens prejudices, and the 
succession of events which can alone enable us 
to look from an eminence, permit us now to 
form a correct judgment of the mission of the 
national assembly. It was called upon, at the 
very outset, to announce to Europe the destruc- 
tion of the ancient social order, and prepare for 
the establishment of a new one in France. 
They who then so strongly blamed it for having 
founded nothing, were not in a position fairly 



THE GENEYESE EDITOR, XXXIX 

to appreciate its works. Their wishes, founded, 
it is true, upon praise-worthy motives, made 
them unjust ; they demanded of the assembly 
more than it could perform ; and assigned 
it another task than that which Providence had 
fixed. A generous impatience to see a realiza- 
tion of the great destinies of man, made them 
anticipate the periods prescribed by the order 
of progress, and they bitterly vituperated the 
constituent assembly for not equalling the vast 
hopes which they had conceived. This assem- 
bly, however, which contained most of the 
great and generous minds then distinguished 
in France, accomplished with grandeur, bold- 
ness, and impartiality, the noblest and most ex- 
tensive task ever confided to any body of men. 

At the present time, when we can better 
appreciate the difficulties and dangers it had to 
encounter, and the immensity of the services it 
rendered to the cause of humanity, by destroying 
the obstacles which stopped the progress of 
civilization, we exact less, and are more grate- 
ful; — in short, we are become just. 

I might have softened expressions of severe 
criticism, and struck out certain passages which 



xl GENEVESE EDITOR's PREFACE. 

may displease some, but it would have been a 
betrayal of confidence. This work was a de- 
posit placed in my hands, and I restore it to the 
public such as it was intrusted to me, unaltered 
and untouched. 

J. L. DUVAL, 

Member of the Representative Couacil of Geneva. 



RECOLLECTIONS 



MIRABE AU 



CHAPTER I. 

I HAVE just read the ^^ Annals of the French Revo- 
lution," by Bertrand de Molleville. This work has 
recalled to my recollection a variety of facts whose 
secret causes are known to me; it has also reminded 
me of my connexion with many of the leading cha- 
racters of that period. A lapse of ten years has 
effaced a number of circumstances from my memory, 
and were I to wait much longer, I should retain only 
a very vague idea of the many remarkable events 
which occurred under my own observation. My 
friends have repeatedly urged me to commit to paper 
the details with which I have been in the habit of 



42 RECOLLECTIONS 

entertaining them in private conversation. I have 
hitherto refused, from an invincible repugnance to 
speak of myself. Having been rather a spectator 
than an actor in these events, I can conscientiously 
declare, that in the little participation I had in them, 
my intentions were always pure, however defective 
may have been my judgment. But not having 
attached consequence to any thing I ever said or did, 
I have kept no journal, and have thus suffered many 
interesting matters to escape me. I did not, at the 
time, perceive their importance, and it is only by 
looking back at them through a lapse of years, that I 
am able to appreciate their value. In the work of 
Bertrand de Molleville, I have read many details 
which had already escaped my memory, and I feel 
the necessity of putting my own fugitive recollections 
into a permanent form. 

I cannot better employ my leisure hours at Bath 
than by devoting them to this task, which, if it prove 
tedious, as I fear it will, I have only to suspend, and 
throw into the fire what I have written. 

My journey to Paris was occasioned by the revo- 
lution at Geneva in 1789. I went thither with 
Duroverai, ex-attorney-general of Geneva, in con- 
sequence of M. Necker's return to office, and the 
events then passing in France. We had two objects 
in view : one to render Geneva wholly free, by an- 
nulling the treaty which prevented her from making 



OP MIRABEAU. 43 

laws without the approbation of the powers which 
had become guarantees of that treaty ; the other, to 
complete that which the Genevese revolution had 
only commenced; for this revolution having been 
effected with great precipitation^ the popular party 
had obtained only a portion of the rights of which 
they had been deprived in 1782. The councils had 
yielded some of their usurped powers, but had man- 
aged to retain several. The Genevese residents in 
London were by no means satisfied with this arrange- 
ment, and the clause which they reprobated the 
most, was the one which provided that the exiles, 
though recalled, should not resume their offices and 
honours. Meetings had been held on this subject ; 
and, as I had not been banished, but was only a vol- 
untary exile, it was considered that I could plead the 
cause of the exiles with much more propriety than 
themselves. My notions of liberty had been strength- 
ened by my residence in England, and by the liberal 
spirit of the writings published, at that period, in 
France. I was one of the most active at our Gene- 
vese meetings ; and I undertook to write a pamphlet 
containing all the observations we had made upon the 
new Genevese code. My work was well received; 
and it was proposed to address it to our fellow citi- 
zens. Duroverai, who had just arrived from Ireland, 
persuaded me that the work would prove more effect- 
ive if published at Paris ; and that it was necessary 



44 RECOLLECTIONS 

to prevent a ratification of the treaty by the powers, 
otherwise the imperfect state of things then existing, 
might be rendered permanent and conclusive. 

The affairs of Geneva are totally foreign to the 
present work. But it was necessary that I should 
make known my object in going to Paris^ and show 
that, by a concatenation of events, all connected with 
that object, I found myself mixed up with the French 
revolution. Before I enter upon my subject, I must 
premise that my principal recollections relate to 
Mirabeau, and I am therefore bound to begin by 
stating the origin of my connexion with him. 

In 1788, I spent the months of August and Sep- 
tember, at Paris, with my friend Mr Romilly, of 
London. Romilly is descended from a French fam- 
ily, who took refuge in England after the revocation 
of the edict of Nantes ; an event of which he never 
spoke without blessing the memory of Louis XIV, to 
whom he thus owed the obligation of being an Eng- 
lishman. He had embraced the profession of the 
law, and practised at the Chancery bar, where suc- 
cess is attended with much less eclat than in the Court 
of King's Bench. 

During Mirabeau's visit to London in 1784, he had 
become very intimate with Romilly. He was then 
engaged in his work on the order of Cincinnatus, and 
had in his portfolio plans and sketches of several other 
works, upon which he took good care to consult every 



OF MIRABEAU. 45 

person capable of affording him information. He was 
then poor, and obliged to live by his writings. He 
wrote his Considerations on the Escaut^ from a letter 
by M. Chauvet, which gave him the first idea of the 
work. Having become acquainted with a geogra- 
pher, whose name I forget, he also meditated writing 
a universal geography. Had any one offered him 
the elements of Chinese grammar, he would, no doubt, 
have attempted a treatise on the Chinese language. 
He studied a subject whilst he was writing upon it, 
and he only required an assistant who furnished 
matter. He could contrive to get notes and addi- 
tions from twenty different hands t, and had he been 
offered a good price, I am confident he would have 
undertaken to write even an encyclopsedia. 

His activity was prodigious. If he worked little 
himself, he made others work very hard. He had 
the art of finding out men of talent, and of success- 
fully flattering those who could be of use to him. He 
worked upon them with insinuations of friendship, 
and ideas of public benefit.* His interesting and 
animated conversation was like a hone which he used 
to sharpen his tools. Nothing was lost to him. He 

* When, at a later period, Mirabeau wanted my services, he 
spoke to me in praise of my friends, and talked about Geneva. 
This was a species of Manz des Vaches — it softened and subju- 
gated me. Note by Dumont. 



46 RECOLLECTIONS 

collected with care, anecdotes, conversations, and 
thoughts — appropriated, to his own benefit, the fruits 
of the reading and study of his friends — knew how 
to use the information thus acquired, so as to appear 
always to have possessed it — and when he had begun 
a work in earnest, it was seen to make a rapid and 
daily progress. 

In London he fell in with D . . . ., who was wri- 
ting a history of the Revolutions of Geneva, the first 
volume of which he had already published. D . . . . 
wished to be an author without its being known, and 
seemed to blame himself for writing this work. He 
pressed Mirabeau to take his manuscripts and com- 
pose a History of Geneva. In less than a week, 
Mirabeau showed him an extract he had made from 
the volume already published. It was done in a 
masterly style ; was energetic, rapid and interest- 
ing. I know not w^hat made D . . . . change his 
mind, but, on a sudden, he withdrew his manuscripts 
from Mirabeau. The consequence was a coolness, 
and something worse, between them. These two 
men could never have worked in conjunction. Mi- 
rabeau, however, declared that he only wanted the 
second place, and would willingly yield to D . . . . 
the honour of the undertaking ; but the truth is, he 
thought that his reputation would absorb that of his 
companion, and that D . . . . would be considered, 
at most, but as a mason who had brought the stones 



OF MIRABEAU. 47 

and raortar for the edifice, of which Mirabeau was 
the architect. 

When we arrived at Paris in 1788, the character 
of the Count de Mirabeau was in the lowest possible 
state of degradation. He had been employed at Ber- 
lin by M. de Calonne, was connected with all the 
enemies of Neck er, against whom he had several times 
exercised his pen, and was considered as a dangerous 
enemy and a slippery friend. His lawsuits with his 
family — his elopements — his imprisonments and his 
morals, could not be overlooked, even in a city so lax 
as Paris ; and his name was pronounced with detes- 
tation at the houses of some of our most intimate 
friends. Romilly, almost ashamed of his former 
friendship for Mirabeau, determined not to renew 
acquaintance with him. But Mirabeau was not a 
man of etiquette ; and having learnt our address from 
Target, at whose house we had dined, he determined 
to call upon us. The noise of a carriage at the door 
drove Romilly to his room, desiring me, should it be 
a visitor on a call of ceremony, to say that he was out. 
Mirabeau was announced, and I did not send word 
to Romilly, because I thought he wished to avoid 
seeing the count ; and as his room was only separated 
by a thin partition from the one we were in, I con- 
cluded that he would be able to distinguish the voice 
of our visitor, and make his appearance if he pleased. 
Mirabeau began the conversation by talking of our 



48 RECOLLECTIONS 

mutual friends in London. He then spoke of Gene- 
va, for he well knew that to a Genevese there was no 
greater pleasure than talking of his country. He said 
many flattering things of a city which, by producing 
so many distinguished, men, had contributed to the 
general mass, so large a share of genius and learning; 
and he concluded by affirming, that he should never 
be happy until he could liberate that city from the 
fetters imposed upon it by the revolution of 1782. 
Two hours seemed but a moment ; and Mirabeau 
was, in my estimation, the most interesting object in 
Paris. The visit ended by my promising to dine with 
him the same day, and he was to return and fetch 
me in his carriage. 

"With whom have you been talking so long?" 
said Romilly, on leaving his room, to which this long 
visit had confined him. — " Did you not recognise his 
voice ?'^ inquired I. — "No.'^ — "Yet you well know 
the individual, and I even think you must have 
heard a panegyric on yourself, which would have 
made a superb funeral oration.'^ — " What ! was it 
Mirabeau ?" — ^^ It was ; and may I be a fool all my 
life, if I allow the prejudices of our friends to prevent 
me from enjoying his company. I belong neither to 
Calonne's party, nor to Necker's ; but to his whose 
conversatiori animates and delights me. As a com- 
mencement, I am going to dine with him to-day.'^ 
Mirabeau soon returned, took us both with him, and 



OF MIRABEAU. 49 

in a very short time overcame our prejudi- 
ces. We visited him often ; and taking advantage 
of the fine weather, made many excursions into the 
country. We dined with him in the Bois de Bou- 
logne, at St Cloud, and at Vincennes ; at which lat- 
ter place he showed us the dungeon in which he had 
been confined three years. 

I never knew a man who, when he chose, could 
make himself so agreeable as Mirabeau. He was a 
delightful companion in every sense of the word ; 
obliging, attentive, full of spirits, and possessed of 
great powers of mind and imagination . It was imposs- 
ible to maintain reserve with him ; you were forced 
into familiarity, obliged to forego etiquette and the 
ordinary forms of society, and call him simply by his 
name. Although fond of his title of count, and, at 
the bottom of his heart, attaching great importance 
to noble birth, he had too much good sense not to 
know when he could avail himself of it with propri- 
ety ; he therefore made a merit of its voluntary ab- 
dication. The forms of good breeding, which have 
been so properly compared to the cotton and other 
soft materials placed between china vases, to prevent 
their being broken by collision, keeps men at a cer- 
tain distance from each other, and prevents, as it were, 
the contact of hearts. Mirabeau rejected them. 
His first care was to remove such obstacles, and inti- 
mate intercourse with him was attended with a sort 

G 



50 RECOLLECTIONS 

of agreeable asperity, a pleasant crudity of express- 
ion, more apparent than real ; for under the dis- 
guise of roughness, sometimes even of rudeness, was 
to be found all the reality of politeness and flattery. 
After the stiff and ceremonious conversations of for- 
mal good breedings there was a fascinating novelty in 
his, never rendered insipid by forms in common use. 
His residence at Berlin had supplied him with a 
stock of curious anecdotes ; for his scandalous letters 
were not then published. He was, at this period, 
publishing his book on the Prussian monarchy. This 
production consisted of a work by Major Mauvillon, 
and extracts from different memoirs procured at great 
expense. No one could, for a moment, suppose that, 
during a residence of only eight months at Berlin, 
Mirabeau could himself have written eight volumes, 
in which he had introduced every possible informa- 
tion relative to the government of Prussia. But he 
had the merit of employing the talents of an officer 
scarcely known to the government he served, and the 
Prussian ministers must have been much surprised at 
finding that a man who had made so short a sojourn 
in their country, could singly undertake so arduous a 
task, and succeed in supplying them with more ma- 
terials than could be found in the united offices of 
their several departments. This work is an illustra- 
tion, by facts, of Adam Smith's principles of political 
economy j and it clearly proves that Prussia has 



OF MIRABEAU. 51 

always been a sufferer, whenever she has departed 
from those principles. 

This was the period of the famous quarrel between 
M. de Calonne and M. Necker, about the deficit. 
The former had good reasons for endeavouring, by a 
direct charge, to throw upon other shoulders the 
weight of his own responsibility. He had accused 
M. Necker of having imposed upon the nation by a 
statement, that on leaving office, instead of a defi- 
ciency, there was an overplus of ten millions of livres. 
M. de Calonne's article, teeming with arithmetical 
calculations and specious arguments, had produced 
a certain effect upon the public mind. M. Necker, 
who had just resumed office, had announced his reply 
as forthcoming. Mirabeau was preparing to refute 
the latter, even before it had appeared and he could 
possibly know its contents. M. Necker's enemies 
were in the habit of meeting at the house of Panchaud, 
the banker, a man of talent, and well versed in finance, 
but who, after a disgraceful bankruptcy, was lost in 
character more than he was ruined in fortune. On 
the publication of M. Necker's work, the committee 
met daily, and Mirabeau always attended to collect 
observations, and inveigh against the minister. He 
anticipated the most triumphant success ; and talked 
confidently of exposing the charlatan, ripping him 
open, and laying him at Colonne's feet, convicted of 
falsehood and incapacity. But this fierce ardour was 



52 RECOLLECTIONS 

soon exhausted by its own violence ; and he said no 
more on the subject himself, nor was he pleased when 
any other person mentioned it in his presence. I 
often asked him why this refutation was delayed ; 
by what novelty of kindly feelings he spared the 
great charlatan, who was enjoying an unmerited repu- 
tation; and why Panchaud's committee deferred 
this great act of justice? Mirabeau, to get rid of 
these attacks, which, after his foolish boasting, he 
could not well parry, at length informed me that M. 
Necker's aid was necessary for the formation of the 
states-general, that his popularity was useful, and 
that the question of the deficit was absorbed by the 
more important one of the double representation of 
the tiers- etat. 

From this fact I infer that M. Necker's answer 
had proved victorious, and that his enemies could 
not succeed in injuring his character. 

We went with Mercier, the author of the ' ' Tableau 
de Paris," and Mallet-Dupan, to see these horrid 
dens, the Salpetriere and Bicetre. I never saw any 
thing more hideous ; and these two establishments at 
the gates of the metropolis strongly display the care- 
less frivolity of the French. The hospital .contained 
the germ of every loathsome disease ; the prison was 
the school of every crime. Romilly, much moved, 
wrote, in a letter to a friend, an energetic description 
of these two receptacles of wretchedness. I men- 



OF MIRABEAU. 53 

tioned this description to Mirabeau, who was anxious 
to see it. After reading it, to translate and publish 
it was the work of a single day ; and he completed a 
small volume by adding a translation of an anonymous 
paper on the administration of the criminal law of 
England. The work was announced as translated 
from the English, by the Count de Mirabeau; but 
the public, accustomed to disguises of this nature, 
imputed to him the authorship of both. The suc- 
cess of this book was great, and its profits covered 
his expenses for a month. Mirabeau enjoyed a high 
reputation as a writer. His work on the Bank of St 
Charles, his "Denunciation of Stock-jobbing," his 
"Considerations on the Order of Cincinnatus,'' and 
his "Lettres de Cachet," were his titles to fame. 
But if all who had contributed to these works had 
each claimed his share, nothing would have remained 
as Mirabeau's own, but a certain art of arrangement, 
some bold expressions and biting epigrams, and nu- 
merous bursts of manly eloquence, certainly not the 
growth of the French academy. He obtained from 
Claviere and Panchaud the materials for his writings 
on finance. Claviere supplied him with the subject 
matter of his Letter to the King of Prussia. De 
Bourges was the author of his address to the Batavi- 
ans, and I have often been present at the disputes 
between them, to which this circumstance gave rise. 
Mirabeau did not deny the debt, but de Bourges, 



54 RECOLLECTIONS 

seeing the success of the work, was enraged at having 
been sacrificed to the fame of another. Mirabeau 
stood so high with the public, that the partners of 
his labours could not succeed in destroying a reputa- 
tion which they had themselves established for him. 
I have often compared Mirabeau to a general making 
conquests through his lieutenants, whom he afterwards 
subjects to the very authority they have founded for 
him. Mirabeau had certainly a right to consider 
himself the parent of all these productions, because 
he presided at their birth, and without his indefati- 
gable activity they would never have seen the light. 

Claviere, as much annoyed as any man could be at 
having served as a pedestal to Mirabeau's fame, had 
formed a connection with Brissot de Warville, with 
whom he wrote in conjunction. Mirabeau called 
Brissot a 'literary jockey, and spoke of him with con- 
tempt; but entertained a high opinion of Claviere, 
with whom he was desirous of a renewal of intimacy. 
There had been no direct rupture between them, but 
much bitter feeling. Claviere called Mirabeau a 
jackdaw, that ought to be stripped of his borrowed 
plumes; but this jackdaw, even when deprived of 
his borrowed plumes, was still armed with a power- 
ful spur, and could soar above all the rest of the lite- 
rary tribe. 

Mirabeau introduced us to Dapont de Nemours 
and Champfort. Dupont, author of the " Citizen's 



OF MIRABEAU. 55 

Ephemerides/' and the zealous friend of Turgot, had 
the reputation of an honest man and a clever econo- 
mist; but he rendered himself a little ridiculous by 
the aifectation of importance with which he complain- 
ed of having to correspond with four kings. We 
found him one morning occupied in writing a work 
on leather^ in which he showed that the government 
had never been consistent in its regulations on this 
matter. "This work," said he^, "will be more en- 
tertaining than a novel ;" and, as a specimen, he read 
to us seven or eight heavy and tedious chapters ; but 
he rewarded us for this ennui by giving us many 
anecdotes of the assembly of notables, of which he 
had been secretary. He mentioned, among other 
things, a very successful bon-mot. Tithes were the 
subject of discussien. " Tithes," said the Archbishop 
of Aix, in a whining tone, " that voluntary/ offering 
of the devout faithful . . . " — "Tithes," interrupted 
the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, in his quiet and mod- 
est way, which rendered the trait more piquant, 
" that voluntary offering of the devout faithful, con- 
cerning which there are now forty thousand lawsuits 
in the kingdom." 

Champfort and Mirabeau kept up a reciprocal ex- 
change of absurd compliments. The former aifected 
independence of character even to singularity. Al- 
though intimate with several distinguished persons at 
court, particularly with M. de Vaudreuil, he always 



56 RECOLLECTIONS 

made a point of railing, in their presence, against 
every thing connected with high office and elevated 
rank. He aimed at passing for a misanthropist ; but 
his dislike of human-kind arose from pride alone, 
and was manifested only in epigrams. Whilst others 
endeavoured, with a battering-ram, to overthrow the 
Colossus, he attempted to cripple him with shafts of 
satire. Knowing him afterwards more intimately, I 
saw a great deal of him ; and, in his passion for revo- 
lution, I could discern nothing but a species of 
wounded vanity, susceptible of no enjoyment save 
the one resulting from the overthrow of that superi- 
ority of talent which had given him umbrage. He 
hated the institution of marriage, because he was 
himself illegitimate; and he declaimed against per- 
sons of rank and influence, lest he should be suspect- 
ed of enjoying court patronage. By his own account, 
he was a severe moralist, and yet he sought his 
pleasures in the very coarsest and most degrading 
kind of voluptuousness. Mirabeau said that a statue 
ought to be raised to him by the physicians, because 
he had discovered, in the stews of the Palais Royal, 
the germ of a disease thought to be extinct — a kind 
of leprosy or elephantiasis. 

We had other acquaintances in Paris besides Mi- 
rabeau, among whom we dared not boast above our 
breath of our intimacy with the latter. These were 
the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, M. de Malesherbes, 



OF MIRABEAU. 



57 



M. de Lafayette, Mr Jefferson, the American 
minister, Mallet du Pan, the Abbe Morellet, and 
many other personages less known. French conver- 
sation at this period was much less trivial than it 
used to be. The approaching convocation of the 
states-general, the importance of passing political 
events, interesting questions on freedom, and the 
near approach of a crisis which would affect the fu- 
ture destinies of the nation, were all novel topics at 
Paris, where they excited a diversity of opinions, and 
raised a fermentation which, though yet but feebly 
developed, imparted a strong stimulus to conversation. 
Every mind plunged into uncertain futurity and 
speculated in accordance with his fears or his wishes. 
In the higher classes, not a single individual remained 
indifferent to what was passing, and even the mass 
of the people commenced an agitation of which they 
scarcely knew the object. 

The two months we spent at Paris were so well 
filled, the company we saw so varied, the whole of 
our time so profitably employed, the objects we be- 
held so interesting, and the scene so constantly 
changing, that in this short period I lived more than 
during whole years of my subsequent life. I was 
chiefly indebted to my fellow traveller for the recep- 
tion I met with. I was under his auspices, and as 
his society was much courted, I did not encounter 
neglect. 1 was proud of his merit, and when I per- 

H 



58 RECOLLECTIONS "* 

ceived that he was understood and appreciated, my 
heart warmed with the exultation of friendship at the 
consideration he enjoyed without perceiving it. I 
cannot at present conceive how, in so short a time, we 
managed to get through all we performed. Romilly, 
always so quiet and measured in his motions, is yet 
a man of unceasing activity. He does not lose even 
minutes. He devotes himself in earnest to whatever 
he is doing; and, like the hand of a clock, never 
stops, although his motions are so equal as to be 
scarcely perceptible. 

I can fancy I see him now before me, overwhelmed 
with business in the most laborious of professions; 
nevertheless he finds leisure to read every important 
book that appears, recurs often to his classics, sees 
much company, and yet never appears pressed for 
time. Economy of time is a virtue I never possessed, 
and my days often pass away without leaving any 
trace. Romilly communicated his activity to me, 
and taught me an art which unfortunately I shall 
never be able to make available.* 

On our departure, Mirabeau accompanied us as 
far as Chantilly, where we spent a delightful day, 
making projects to meet again; and we agreed to 
keep up a regular correspondence, which, however, 

* Sir Samuel Romilly died in London in 1818. — Note by 
the Genevese Editor. 



OF MIRABEAU. 59 

we did not even begin. Mirabeau was full of his plan 
concerning the stales-general. He foresaw the diffi- 
culties he should have to encounter in his election ; 
but he already aimed at becoming one of the repre- 
sentatives of the tiers-etaty from a notion that he 
should thereby raise himself to greater eminence, 
and that his rank would add fresh eclat to his popular 
principles. I will here give another instance of his 
activity — of his avarice, I may say, in collecting the 
smallest literary materials. He gave me a methodical 
list of the subjects we had discussed together in con- 
versation, and upon which we had differed. It was 
headed thus: " List of subjects which Dumont en- 
gages, upon the faith of friendship, to treat consci- 
entiously, and send to Mirabeau very shortly after 
his return to London. Divers anecdotes on his 
residence in Russia; biographical sketches of several 
celebrated. Genevese ; opinions on natiunal educa- 
tion,'' &c. There were eighteen items in all, and 
his recollection of them was a proof of his attention 
and faithful memory. He was desirous of forming a 
collection of such materials, that he might use them 
at his leisure. Mirabeau could adopt every style of 
conduct and conversation, and though not himself a 
moral man, he had a very decided taste for the so- 
ciety of those whose rigidity of principle and severity 
of morals contrasted with the laxity of his own. His 
mode of inspiring confidence was to confess candidly 



60 RECOLLECTIONS 

the faults and follies of his youth, express regret at 
his former errors, and declare that he would endea- 
vour to expiate them by a sedulous and usefid appli- 
cation of his talents in future to the cause of humanity 
and liberty, without allowing any personal advantage 
to turn him from his purpose. He had preserved, 
even in the midst of his excesses, a certain dignity 
and elevation of mind, combined with energy of 
character, which distinguished him from those 
effeminate and worn out rakes, those walking shadows, 
with which Paris swarmed ; and one was tempted to 
admit, as an excuse for his faults, the particular cir- 
cumstances of his education, and to think that his 
virtues belonged to himself, and that his vices were 
forced upon him. I never knew a man more jealous 
of the esteem of those whom he himself esteemed, or 
one who could be acted upon more easily, if excited 
by a sentiment of high honour ; but there was nothing 
uniform and permanent in his character. His mind 
proceeded by leaps and starts, and obeyed too many 
impetuous masters. When burning with pride or 
jealousy, his passions were terrible ; he was no longer 
master of himself, and committed the most dangerous 
imprudences. 

Having thus explained the origin of my intimacy 
with Mirabeau, I return to the journey I undertook 
with M. Duroverai, in 1789, for the purpose of 
trying if, with M. Necker's return to office, we could 
not better the condition of the Genevese exiles. 



or MIRABRAU, 61 



CHAPTER II. 



A SOMEWHAT ludicrous circumstance occurred dur- 
ing our journey. I have but an imperfect recol- 
lection of it. All was in a bustle for the election of 
the deputies; and the primary assemblies of the 
bailliages, composed of shopkeepers and peasants, 
knew not how to proceed with an election. We 
were breakfasting at Montreuil-sur-Merj if I recol- 
lect right, and while chatting with our host, the lat- 
ter acquainted us with the trouble and embarrassment 
attendant upon their meetings. Two or three days 
had been lost in disputes and confusion, and they 
had never even heard of such things as a president, 
a secretary, or voting tickets. By way of a joke, 
we determined to become the legislators of Mon- 
treuil, and having called for pen, ink and paper, 
began to draw up short regulations indicating the 
proper mode of conducting these elections. Never 
did work proceed more gaily than ours. In an hour 
it was complete, though interrupted every moment 



•62 RECOLLECTIONS 

by peals of laughter. We then read and explained 
it to our host, who, delighted at the idea of acquiring 
consequence, entreated that we would give it to him, 
assuring us that he would make good use of it. We 
would willingly have delayed our journey for a day 
to assist at this assembly and behold the incipient 
dawn of democracy in France, but we could not 
spare the time. Soon after our arrival at Paris, we 
were not a little surprised at reading in the public 
prints, that the assembly at Montreuil had finished 
its election the first of any, and great praises were 
bestowed upon the order which had been established 
there. 

This circumstance is not so unimportant as it might 
at first appear. It displays either the carelessness 
or the incapacity of a government which could or- 
der so unusual a thing as a popular election, without 
drawing up a regular form of proceeding, so as to 
prevent disputes and confusion. 

On our arrival at Paris, we waited on M. Necker, 
and in an interview with that minister, perceived 
that the question of the Genevese guarantee would 
not be so easily settled as we had anticipated. The 
king would neither consent to annul the edict of 1782, 
nor risk a refusal of his assent to an arrangement 
voluntarily entered into by both parties. As the 
negociation threatened to be long, I spent a few 
weeks at Claviere's country-house at Surene, where 



OF MIRABEAU. 63 

I employed myself in re- writing my "Address to 
the citizens of Geneva." I was aided in this task by 
Claviere, Duroverai, and Reybaz, the latter being 
my Aristarchus for the style ; for this was my appren- 
ticeship in the art of composition, at least upon po- 
litical topics. The work was finished, and sent to 
Geneva two or three months after. I say nothing of 
the sensation it produced, for if I derive any plea- 
sure from continuing these memoirs, I shall have a 
long chapter to write on the subsequent revolutions 
of Geneva, and the individual part I took in them. 

Claviere's house at Surene was the rendezvous of 
many of the most distinguished personages of the 
French revolution. Mirabeau and Brissot were two 
of the most remarkable. I was aware of every thing^ 
that was passing at Paris ; I often went there for a 
day or two, in order not to neglect the acquaintances 
I had formed during my former residence in that 
city. I visited the Duke de la Rochefoucauld, M. 
de Lafayette, and M. de Malesherbes. I had since 
become very intimate with the Bishop of Chartres, 
at whose house I often met the Abbe Sieyes. I vis- 
ited also M. Delessert, Mallet-Dupan, Dr de La 
Roche, M. Bidderman and M. Reybaz. But du- 
ring the months of March and April, I was almost 
always at Surene, occupied with my work, and caring 
little about the approaching meeting of the states-- 
general. 



64 llECOLLECTIONS 

I remember attending, at Brissot's and Claviere's, 
several meetings which they called committees, in 
which it was proposed to draw up declarations of 
right, and to lay down principles for conducting the 
proceedings of the states-general. I was only a spec- 
tator, and I never quitted one of these meetings 
without a feeling of mortal disgust at the chattering 
of these talkers. But the scene about to be unfold- 
ed was so important, that I was always to be found 
wherever there was any thing to be seen. I heard 
no interesting speeches, it is true ; but the feeling on 
the subject of liberty was unanimous. Cordiality, 
warmth and energy pervaded every heart, and in the 
midst of a nation endeavouring to shake off the tram- 
mels of feudal oppression, and which had abandoned 
its characteristic frivolity for a nobler pursuit, I felt 
inspired with the most enthusiastic ardour, and yield- 
ed to the most flattering anticipations. The French, 
against whom I had imbibed a prejudice of contempt, 
arising from my republican education, and which had 
been strengthened in England, now seemed to me 
quite a different people. I began to look upon them 
as free men, and participated in all the opinions of the 
most zealous partisans of the tiers-etat. I did not give 
much consideration to the questions which divided 
the French nation, but suffered myself to be borne 
away by my habitual opinions in favour of liberty. 
I never contemplated more than an imitation of the 



OF MIRABEAU. 65 

English form of government^, which I considered the 
most perfect model of political institutions. But if I 
had not adequately studied the subject, neither had 
I the presumption to deliver an opinion upon it. I 
never spoke at any of these meetings, when they ex- 
ceeded the ordinary number of a friendly party. No 
one could be less desirous than I of making a display 
before a numerous auditory. I considered such a 
thing improper for a stranger, and my natural timid- 
ity strengthened my resolve not to make the attempt. 
Duroverai, although more accustomed to public as- 
semblies, and gifted, moreover, with a power of elo- 
quence which would have raised him to the highest 
rank in these committees, maintained a similar 
reserve, and had not even the modest ambition to un- 
dertake a part which he might have played with the 
most distinguished success. I will now state how 
we were at length dragged into the stream.* 

* In one of these meetings at Brissot's, the subject under dis- 
cussion was the several points to be inserted in the regulation for 
Paris. Amid a great number of propositions, we were greatly sur- 
prised at hearing Palissot move for a special article on the right of 
representation. We Genevese fancied that he meant the right 
of making representations or rather remonstrances to govern- 
ment. But he soon undeceived us by stating that this essential 
right, one of the most precious attributes of liberty, was now in 
the very act of beini( violated by government, in the most open 
manner, for M. Chenier's tragedy of Charles IX. was not allowed 
I 



66 RECOLLECTIONS 

The only impression which these speeches and 
proceedings have left upon my mind is one of a 
chaos of confused notions. There was no fixed point 
of public opinion, except against the court, and what 
was then termed the aristocracy. Necker was the 
divinity of the day; and Sieyes, then little known to 
the people, had, in his writings, supplied with points 
of argument such as were fond of discussing public 
questions. Rabaud de Saint-Etienne and Target had 
acquired a reputation at least equal to that of Sieyes. 
They who anticipated a civil war, looked upon La- 
fayette as ambitious of becoming the Washington 
of France. These were the leading characters of 
the day. 

The Duke de la Rochefoucauld, distinguished by 
his simplicity, the excellence of his moral character, 
his independence of the court and his liberal princi- 
ples, assembled at his house the principal members 
of the nobility who had pronounced themselves in 
favour of the people, the double representation of the 
tiers, the vote by numbers, the abolition of privi- 
leges, &c. Condorcet, Dupont, Lafayette, and the 
Duke de Liancourt, were the most distinguished at 

to be performed. Being thus made acquainted with the nature 
of the right of representation, we could not help smiling at our 
blunder, when some one approaching me, whispered in my ear, 
" You perceive that, among the French, every thing ends with 
the theatre. " — Note by Dumont. 



OF MIUABEAU. 67 

these meetings. The prevailing idea was that of 
giving a constitution to France. The princes and 
nobles, who would fain preserve and fortify the old 
constitution, formed, properly speaking, the aristo- 
cratic party, against whom a general outcry was raised. 
But although the clamour was great, many individuals 
were almost indifferent, because they were unable 
to appreciate the consequences of what was passing. 
The body of the nation, even at Paris, saw nothing 
more in the assembling of the states-general, than a 
means of diminishing the taxes ; and the creditors 
of the state, so often deprived of their dividends by 
a violation of public faith, considered the states-gene- 
ral as nothing more than a rampart against a govern- 
ment bankruptcy. The deficit had filled them with 
consternation ; they deemed themselves on the brink 
of ruin, and were anxious to establish the public 
revenue upon a sure foundation. Besides this, each 
order of the states- general had its parties ; the order 
of the nobility was divided into an aristocratic and a 
democratic faction ; so was that of the clergy, and so 
was the tiers-etat. It is impossible to describe the 
confusion of ideas, the licentiousness of imagination, 
the burlesque notions of popular rights, the hopes, 
apprehensions and passions of these parties. The 
Count de Lauraguais said that it was like a world, the 
day after its creation, when nations, rendered hostile 
by interest, were trying to settle their differences 



68 RECOLLECTIONS 

and regulate their respective rights as if nothing had 
previously existed, and in making arrangements for 
the future, there was no past to be taken into consid- 
eration. 

I was present at Paris at the meetings of the sec- 
tions for the appointment of electors. Although 
there were orders to admit into these assemblies none 
but the inhabitants of the section in which they were 
respectively held, they were not enforced j for in 
France there was no feeling of jealousy in this res- 
pect. After the first few had entered, every de- 
cently dressed individual presenting himself at the 
door was allowed to pass. In many sections there 
was some diflSculty in obtaining the attendance of a 
sufficient number of persons. The citizens of Paris, 
surprised at the novelty of the thing, and rather 
alarmed at centinels being placed at the doors of the 
assemblies, remained at home out of danger, and de- 
termined to continue to do so until the first few days 
were passed. I was at the section of the Filles- 
Saint- Thomas f a central district inhabited by the 
most opulent classes. For many days not more than 
two hundred individuals were present. The diffi- 
culty of giving the first impetus to the machine was 
extreme. The noise and confusion were beyond 
any thing I can describe. Each individual was stand- 
ing, and all spoke at the same time, nor could the 
president succeed in obtaining silence for two minutes 
together. Many other difficulties arose on the man- 



OF MIRABEAU. 69 

ner of taking the votes and counting them/ I had a 
store of curious anecdotes relative to this infancy of 
popular institutions, but by degrees they have been 
effaced from my memory. They were instances of 
the eagerness of conceited men to put themselves 
forward in the hope of being ejected. 

Here were likewise to be seen the first attempts 
at party intrigue. A list of candidates was rejected, 
and the elections were to be made amongst all per- 
sons present. The consequence of this was, that the 
votes were at first so much divided, that no absolute 
majority was obtained for any one candidate pro- 
posed, and it became necessary to repeat the poll 
several times. 

The assembly of electors were as slow and tumul- 
tuous in their proceedings as the district assemblies. 
The states-general met at Versailles several days 
before the deputies were elected for Paris. It is a 
remarkable fact that the Abbe Sieyes was the last 
deputy elected, and the only ecclesiastic appointed 
to represent the tiers-etat. Thus the man who had 
given the impulsion to the states- general and possessed 
the greatest influence in their formation, owed his 
being a member of that assembly to a mere chance. 

The elections at Paris were the last in the king- 
dom. The delay arose, I apprehend, from a discus- 
sion as to the mode of making them. Some pre- 
tended that it should be done by the three orders in 



70 RECOLLECTIONS 

conjunction — others^ by the orders separately. Dur- 
ing this discussion, Duval d'Espresmenil, who had 
always been considered as a partisan of the tiers-etat, 
declared himself in favour of privileges ; and on this 
occasion the count de Lauraguais said to him jeer- 
ingly, " Eh ! M. Duval, as I do not prevent you 
from being noble, pray suffer me to be a bourgeois 
of Paris!" 

I was not at Versailles at the opening of the states, 
but went thither a few days afterwards. The three 
orders were in open quarrel about the verification of 
their powers. The Uers-etat wanted this verifica- 
tion to be made in common ; the two other orders 
insisted upon its being done separately. Though 
the question appeared to be of no importance, much 
in reality depended upon it. The tiers-etat wanted 
the two other orders to unite with them and form but 
one assembly ; in which case, the commons, from 
their numerical strength, would always maintain a 
preponderance. They adhered to this opinion with 
the greatest tenacity ; resisted every attempt to bring 
them into action, and contrived to cast upon the no- 
bility and clergy an imputation of obstinacy, which 
rendered the latter orders still more unpopular with 
the multitude. 

It was a great blunder of the government to leave 
this question unsettled. If the king had ordered the 
union of all three, he would have had the tiers-etat 



OF MIRABEAU. 71 

for him ; and had he ordered the separation, he would 
have been supported by the nobility and clergy. 
The states-general would certainly not have begun 
their proceedings by an act of disobedience towards 
the king, then considered as the provisional legisla- 
tor. But in coming to no decision on the subject, 
he opened the lists to the corabattants^ and the royal 
authority was destined to become the prey of the 
victors. 

I had opportunities of seeing how much this delay 
generated and excited party feelings. The tiers- 
etat continued their proceedings, and at length went 
so far as to constitute themselves a national assembly, 
after having sent a peremptory summons to the nobil- 
ity and clergy, to which those orders declined paying 
any attention. All the seeds of disorder were sown 
during this interval, and this is a period to which the 
historian of the revolution ought to pay particular 
attention. 

When I entered the hall in which the States sate, 
there was neither object of discussion nor order. 
The deputies were not at first known to each other ; 
but every day made them better acquainted. Du- 
ring their proceedings, they took their places any 
where, chose the oldest among them to preside at their 
sittings, and spent their whole time in discussing 
trifling incidents, listening to news ; and, the provin- 



72 RECOLLECTIONS 

cial deputies, in making themselves acquainted with 
Versailles. 

The hall was constantly full of visitors who went 
every where, and even took possession of the benches 
of the deputies, without any jealousy on the part of 
the latter, or claims of privilege. It is true that, not 
being yet constituted, they considered themselves 
rather as members of a club than of a body politic. 



OF MIRABEAU. - 73 



CHAPTER III. 



I SOON found the person I was looking for. It was 
Mirabeau. In the course of a long conversation with 
him, I discovered that he was already annoyed with 
every body, and in open hostility with the majority 
of the deputation from Provence. I was informed, 
soon afterwards, that several humiliating circumstan- 
ces had occurred to vex him. 

When the list of deputies of the several hailliages 
was read, many well known names were received 
with applause. Mounier, Chapelier, Rabaud de 
Sainte-Etienne, and several others had been distin- 
guished by these flattering marks of approbation; 
but, when Mirabeau's name was read, there was a 
murmur of a different kind, and hooting instead of 
applause. Insult and contempt showed how low he 
stood in the estimation of his colleagues, and it was 
even openly proposed to get his election cancelled, 
when the verification of powers took place. He had 
employed raanceuvres at Aix, and at Marseilles, 

K 



74 RECOLLECTIONS 

which were to be brought forward against the legality 
of his return ; and he himself felt so convinced that 
his election at Marseilles could never be maintainedj 
that he gave the preference to Aix, although he 
would have been much more flattered at representing 
one of the largest and most important cities in the 
kingdom. He had tried to speak on two or three 
occasions, but a general murmur always reduced him 
to silence. It was in this situation of spite and ill- 
humour;, that he published the two first numbers of 
an anonymous journal entitled, the ^^ States-General," 
a sort of lampoon upon the assembly. He compared 
the deputies to tumultuous school-boys, giving way 
to indecent and servile mirth. He severely attacked. 
M. Necker, the nation's idol. In short, this journal 
was a collection of epigrams. The government 
ordered its suppression ; but Mirabeau, more excited 
than discouraged by this prohibition, announced in 
his own name, his ^^ Letters to his constituents." No 
one durst dispute the right of a representative of the 
people to give an account of the public sittings of 
the assembly. 

With my friendship for Mirabeau, and the high 
opinion I entertained of his talents, it made my heart 
bleed to see him in such disgrace, especially as it 
inflamed his self-love, and made him, perhaps, do as 
much harm as he might have done good. I listened 
patiently to all his complaints and railings against the 



OF MIRABEAU. 75 

assembly. In speaking of its members, he was prodi- 
gal in his expressions of contempt, and he already 
anticipated that all would be lost by their silly vanity, 
and jealousy of every individual who evinced supe- 
rior abilities. He thought, or rather affected to 
think, that he was repulsed by a sort of ostracism 
against talents j but he would show them, he said, 
that he could be even with them. In the midst of 
these bursts of passion, and these rodomontades of 
vengeance, I easily perceived that he was much 
affected, and even distinguished the tears of vexation 
in his eyes. I seized the earliest opportunity of 
applying a balm to the wounds of his self-love. I 
told him plainly and candidly, that his debut had 
offended every one ; that nothing was more dangerous 
than for a deputy who, like him, might aspire to the 
first rank in the assembly, to write a journal ; that 
to censure the body to which he belonged, was not 
the way to become a favourite with its members; 
that if, like me, he had lived in a republic, and seen 
the concealed springs of party intrigue, he would not 
so readily yield to discouragement; that he should 
quietly suffer all the half-talents and half-reputations 
to pass before him ; that they would destroy them- 
selves, and, in the end, each individual would be 
placed according to his specific gravity ; that he was- 
on the greatest theatre in the world ; that he could 
pot attain to eminence except through the assembly ; 



76 RECOLLECTIONS 

that the slight mortification he had undergone, would 
be more than compensated by a single successful day ; 
and that if he were desirous of obtaining a permanent 
ascendency, he must follow a new system. This long 
conversation, which took place in the garden of Tri- 
anon, had an excellent effect. Mirabeau, feelingly 
alive to the voice of friendship, softened by degrees, 
and at length admitted that he was wrong. Soon 
after, he showed me a letter to his constituents, which 
he was about to publish. We read it together ; it 
was less bitter than former ones, but was still too 
much so. We spent a couple of hours in remodelling 
it, and entirely changing its tone. He even consent- 
ed, though with repugnance, to praise certain depu- 
ties, and represent the assembly in a respectable light. 
We then agreed that he should not attempt to speak 
until some extraordinary occasion should offer. 

Mirabeau had but a slight acquaintance with Du- 
roverai, but was well aware of his talents. He knew 
that Duroverai had acquired great experience in 
conducting the political affairs of Geneva, had a pro- 
found knowledge of jurisprudence, had drawn up the 
Genevese code of law^s, and possessed, in the highest 
degree, the art of discussion and the routine of popu- 
lar assemblies. All this rendered an intimacy with 
him very desirable ; and Mirabeau, who afterwards 
considered him as his Mentor, never took a step of 
any consequence without consulting him. At Ver- 



OF MIRABEAU. 77 

sallies, we lodged at the hotel Charost. Claviere, 
who frequently came from Paris to see the assembly, 
had become reconciled to Mirabeau, and came often 
to our hotel, where we assembled now and then a 
few friends of our own way of thinking, and, in par- 
ticular, our countryman M. Reybaz, between whom 
and Mirabeau we endeavoured to promote an inti- 
macy. But it was some time before they became 
familiar. Reybaz, by his coldness of manner, re- 
pulsed the most flattering advances ; but he at length 
yielded, and became one of Mirabeau's most active 
co-operators. This did not occur till several months 
after, when Mirabeau had already acquired great 
ascendency in the assembly. In this little committee, 
I have seen very important measures put in train, 
and I may speak of them with the more freedom, be- 
cause I looked on rather than participated in them. 
I had never meddled with political matters, and felt 
no inclination to do so. I had, moreover, too high 
an opinion of the talents of Duroverai and Claviere, 
not to adopt, generally, their way of thinking. I 
was of great use in preventing collision between them, 
and in calming them when their prejudices, which I 
did not share, were opposed to each other. Durov- 
erai, with many amiable qualities, had unpleasant as- 
perities of temper, and often treated Mirabeau like a 
truant school-boy. Claviere, who looked forward to 
be minister of finance, was in haste to act, and did 



78 RECOLLECTIONS 

not willingly lend himself to Duroverai's plan of 
uniting Mirabeau and Necker, and governing, by- 
such coalition^ the whole assembly. 

Duroverai was acquainted with M. Mallouet, who 
was intimate with M. Necker, and had rendered 
some services to the representatives of Geneva. 
We often dined at his house ; and on one occasion 
convinced him of the necessity of bringing about a 
conference between Mirabeau and M. Necker. 
Many objections were raised: "Can Mirabeau be 
trusted ?" — " Would he concert measures with the 
minister?" — "Would not M. Necker commit him- 
self?" Duroverai answered every objection, and 
M. de Montmorin was consulted. The conference 
took place, and Mirabeau, who had never before seen 
M. Necker, spoke of him, on his return, as a good 
kind of man, unjustly accused of possessing talent and 
depth of thought. This interview was not wholly 
unfruitful ; and the promise of an embassy to Con- 
stantinople, on the dissolution of the assembly, was 
held out to Mirabeau. The engagement was to be 
kept secret ; and I do not think that Mirabeau, who 
was the least discreet of men, communicated it to 
more than some seven or eight persons. However, 
the king's intentions, and those of M. Necker, were 
considered so consonant with public feeling, that a man 
who pledged himself to second them, did not contract 
an engagement contrary to the good of the nation. But 



OF MIRABEAU. 79 

the turn that affairs subsequently took, and Mirabeau's 
great ascendency, soon raised him above an embassy, 
and placed him in a situation to dictate rather than 
have conditions imposed upon him. At this period, 
however, when the permanency of the states was not 
contemplated, much less the destruction of the mon- 
archy, the idea of an embassy pleased him much. 
He wanted to have me appointed secretary, and was 
already meditating the plan of an Ottoman encyclo- 
psedia. 

I ought, before I related this circumstance, to have 
mentioned Mirabeau's first triumph at the assembly 
of the tiers- etat. I was the more affected by it, be- 
cause it concerned Duroverai 5 and never was the 
most dreadful state of anxiety succeeded by more 
intense joy, than on this occasion. Duroverai was 
seated in the hall of the assembly, with some deputies 
of his acquaintance. He had occasion to pass to Mira- 
beau a note written with a pencil. M . . . ., who 
was already one of the most formidable declaimers of 
the assembly, saw this, and asked the member next 
him, who that stranger was, that was passing notes 
and interfering with their proceedings. The answer 
he received was a stimulus to his zeal. He rose, and 
in a voice of thunder, stated, that a foreigner, banished 
from his native country, and residing in England, 
from whose government he received a pension, was 
seated among themj, assisting at their debates, and 



80 RECOLLECTIONS 

transmitting notes and observations to the deputies 
of their assembly. The agitation on every side of 
the hall, which succeeded this denunciation, would 
have appeared to me less sinister, had it been the 
forerunner of an earthquake. Confused cries were 
heard of, " Who is he ?''— " Where is he ?"— " Let 
him be pointed out!" Fifty members spoke at once ; 
but Mirabeau's powerful voice soon obtained silence. 
He declared that he would himself point out the 
foreigner, and denounce him to the assembly. * ' This 
exile," said he, " in the pay of England, is M. 
Duroverai, of Geneva ; and know, that this respec- 
table man, whom you have so wantonly insulted, is a 
martyr to liberty ; that, as attorney-general of the re- 
public of Geneva, he incurred the indignation of our 
visirs, by his zealous defence of his fellow citizens ; 
that a lettre de cachet^ issued by M. de Vergennes, 
deprived him of the office he had but too honourably 
filled ; and when his native city was brought under 
the yoke of the aristocracy, he obtained the honours 
of exile. Know further, that the crime of this en- 
lightened and virtuous citizen, consisted in having 
prepared a code of laws, in which he had abolished 
odious privileges."* 

* This is the speech as Mirabeau uttered it : — " I think with 
the gentleman who spoke last, that no individual, not a deputy, 
whether he be a foreigner or a native, ought to be seated among 
us. But the sacred ties of friendship, the still more holy claims 



OF MIUABEAU. 81 

The impression produced by this speech, of which 
the above is only an abstract, was electrical. It 
was succeeded by a universal burst of applause. 
Nothing that resembled this force and dignity of elo- 

of humanity, and the respect 1 have for this assembly of patriots, 
and friends of peace, render it an imperious duty on my part, to 
separate from the simple question of order, the odious accusation 
which he has had the assurance to couple with it. He has dared 
to assert, that among the numerous strangers who are assisting at 
our proceedings, there is an exile ;— one who has taken refuge 
in England, and is in the pay of the king of Great Britain. Now 
this stranger, this exile, this refugee, is M. Duroverai, of Geneva, 
one of the most respectable citizens in the world. Never had 
freedom a more enlightened, a more laborious, or a more disin- 
terested advocate ! From his youth he was appointed by his 
countrymen to assist in the framing of a code of laws, intended to 
place the constitution of his country on a permanent basis. 
Nothing was more beautiful, nothing more philosophically politi- 
cal, than the law in favour of the natives. He was one of its 
framers. This law, so little known, yet so deserving of general 
attention, establishes the following principle : " That all repub- 
lics have perished, nay more, deserved to perish, for having op- 
pressed the people, and not having known that they who govern, 
can preserve their own liberty only by respecting that of their 
brethren." Elected attorney-general of Geneva, by the unani- 
mous voice of his fellow citizens, M. Duroverai incurred, from 
that moment, the hatred of the aristocrats. They swore his 
ruin ; and certain that this intrepid magistrate would never 
cease to employ the authority of his office in defence of the 
independence of his country, they succeeded in obtaining his 
L 



83 RECOLLECTIONS 

cution had ever been heard before in the tumultuous 
assembly of the tiers-etat. Mirabeau was deeply 
moved by this first success. Duroverai was imme- 
diately surrounded by deputies, who, by their kind 
attentions, endeavoured to atone for the insult they 
had offered him. Thus, an accusation which had, 
at first, filled me with consternation, terminated so 

dismissal, through the interference of a despotic minister. But 
even in the midst of party hatred, and the intrigues of base fac- 
tions, M. Duroverai's character was respected even by calumny 
itself, whose foul breath never sullied a single action of his life. 
Included in the proscription which the aristocrats obtained from 
the destroyers of Genevese independence, he retired to England, 
and will, doubtless, never abdicate the honours of exile, until 
freedom shall once more resume her sway at Geneva. A large 
number of the most respectable citizens of Great Britain took 
up the cause of the proscribed republican, procured him the 
most flattering reception in their country, and induced their go- 
vernment to grant him a pension. This was a species of civic 
crown, awarded by that modern people, whom the tutelar ge- 
nius of the human race seems especially to have appointed to 
guard and officiate at the altars of freedom . . . . ! Behold then 
the stranger, the exile, the refugee, who has been denounced 
to you ! Formerly the persecuted man sought refuge at the 
altar, where he found an inviolable asylum, and escaped from 
the rage of the wicked. The hall in which we are now assem- 
bled, is the temple which, in the name of Frenchmen, you are 
raising to liberty ; and will you suffer it to be polluted by an 
outrage committed upon a martyr of liberty ?" — -Note by Du- 
mont. 



OF MIRABEAU. 83 

much the more to my satisfaction, that the knowledge 
of this scene at Geneva could not fail to promote the 
recall of her exiled citizens. Of course this act of 
courage, this transport of justice and friendship was 
not lost upon us, and our connection was strengthen- 
ed by the ties of gratitude. If Mirabeau had always 
served the public cause with the same ardour as he 
did that of his friend — if he had shown a zeal equally 
noble, in putting a stop to the calumnies uttered 
from the tribune, he would have become the saviour 
of his country. 

I have but an imperfect recollection of the early 
proceedings of the assembly, during the dispute of 
the orders ; but I cannot forget the occasion on which 
a man, who afterwards acquired a fatal celebrity, 
first brought himself into notice. The clergy were 
endeavouring, by a subterfuge, to obtain a meeting of 
the orders ; and for this purpose deputed the Arch- 
bishop of Aix to the tiers-etat. This prelate expa- 
tiated very pathetically upon the distresses of the 
people, and the poverty of the country parishes. 
He produced a piece of black bread, which a dog 
would have rejected, but which the poor were 
obliged to eat or starve. He besought the tiers-etat 
to depute some members to confer with those deputed 
by the nobility and clergy, upon the means of better- 
ing the condition of the indigent classes. The tiers- 
etat perceived the snare, but dared not openly reject 



84 RECOLLECTIONS 

the proposal, as it would render them unpopular 
with the lower classes ; when a deputy rose, and af- 
ter professing sentiments in favour of the poor still 
stronger than those of the prelate, adroitly threw 
doubts upon the sincerity of the intentions avowed by 
the clergy. 

" Go," said he to the archbishop, " and tell your 
colleagues^ that if they are so impatient to assist the 
suffering poor, they had better come hither and join 
the friends of the people. Tell them no longer to 
embarrass our proceedings with afTected delays ; — 
tell them no longer to endeavour, by unworthy 
means, to make us swerve from the resolutions we 
have taken ; but as ministers of religion — ^as worthy 
imitators of their masters — let them forego that 
luxury which surrounds them, and that splendour 
which puts indigence to the blush ; — let them 
resume the modesty of their origin — discharge the 
proud lackeys by whom they are attended — sell their 
superb equipages, and convert all their superfluous 
wealth into food for the indigent." 

This speech, which coincided so well with the pass- 
ions of the time, did not elicit loud applause, which 
would have been a bravado and out of place, but was 
succeeded by a murmur much more flattering: 
'' Who is he ?" was the general question ; but he was 
unknown ; and it was not until some time had elapsed, 
that a name was circulated which, three years later, 



OF MIRABEAU. 85 

made France tremble. The speaker was Robespierre. 
Reybaz, who was seated next to me, observed, 
<* This young man has not yet practised ; he is too 
wordy, and does not know when to stop, but he has 
a store of eloquence and bitterness which will not 
leave him in the crowd." ' 

I had become acquainted with several deputies, 
and I often dined with the Bishop of Chartres, to 
whom I had been introduced by Brissot and Claviere. 
I used to meet, at the house of this prelate, his grand 
vicar, the Abbe Sieyes, but did not form any inti- 
macy with him. He was a very absent man, did not 
encourage familiarity, and was by no means of an 
open disposition. He gave his opinion, but without 
discussion ; and if any one raised an objection, he 
made no reply. His works had earned him a high 
reputation. He was considered the oracle of the 
tiers-etaty and the most formidable enemy of privi- 
leges. He was easily moved to anger, and seemed 
to entertain the most profound contempt for the pres- 
ent order of society. I thought this friend of liberty 
must of course like the English, and I sounded him 
on this subject ; but with surprise I discovered that 
he deemed the English constitution a mere piece of 
quackery, got up to impose upon the multitude. 
He seemed to listen to me as if I were uttering ab- 
surdities, while I detailed the divers modifications 
of this system, and the disguised though real checks 



86 RECOLLECTIONS 

upon the three estates composing the legislature. 
All influence possessed by the crown was, in his eyes, 
venality, and opposition a mere trick. The only thing 
which he admired in England was trial by jury ; 
but he badly understood its principles, which is the 
case with every Frenchman, and had formed very 
erroneous notions on the subject. In a word, he 
considered the English as tyros in framing constitu- 
tions, and that he could give a much better one than 
theirs to France.* 

I inquired of the Bishop of Chartres and M. Las- 
seney concerning Sieyes's habits, studies, and the 
manner in which he had acquired his knowledge ; 
for it was easy to perceive that he was self-educated. 

* I must not forget one of the most characteristic traits with 
which my memory supplies me, relative to the Abbe Sieyes. 
One day, after having breakfasted at M. de Talleyrand's, we 
walked together for a considerable time in the garden of the 
Tuilleries. The Abbe Sieyes was more disposed to talk and 
more communicative than usual. In a moment of familiarity 
and effusion of heart, after having spoken of his studies, his 
works, and his manuscripts, he uttered these words, which 
struck me forcibly : " Politics are a science in which I think I am 
perfect." Had he ever measured the outline, or formed a con- 
ception of the extent and difficulty of a complete legislation, he 
would not have made such an assertion ; and presumption, in 
this case, as in any other, is the surest test of ignorance. — Note 
by Dvmont. 



OF MIHABEAU. 87 

Nothing remained of his acquirements at his theo- 
logical seminary or at the Sorbonne. It appears that 
at Chartres, where he always spent the greater part of 
the summer, he lived like a recluse, because he did 
not like provincial society, and would put himself out 
of the way for nobody. . He read little, but medi- 
tated a great deal. The works he preferred were 
Rousseau's " Contrat Social,''^ the writings of Con- 
dillac, and Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations." 
He had written much, but could not bear the work 
of revision. He fancied he did not possess what is 
called the knack of writing ; he envied Mirabeau's 
power and facility in this respect, and would willingly 
have confided his manuscripts to any one capable of 
giving them that last polish which he felt to be be- 
yond his power. He was little moved by the charms 
of women, which perhaps originated in a weak and 
sickly constitution, but was passionately fond of music, 
with the theory of which he was conversant, besides 
being an excellent performer. This is all I was able 
to collect concerning his character and habits. At 
the period I am speaking of, he might be considered 
the real leader of the tiers-etat, although no one made 
less display. But his work on the " Means of Exe- 
cution," &c. had pointed out the line of conduct to be 
pursued by the assembly, and it was he who exploded 



88 RECOLLECTIONS 

the term tiers-etat to substitute in its stead that of 
the commons.^ 

The Bishop of Chartres was one of the prelates 
attached to the popular party ; that is to say, he was 
favourable to the union of the orders, the vote by in- 
dividual numbers, and a new constitution. He was 
neither a politician nor a man of profound learning ; 
but had much good faith and candour, and suspected 
nothing wrong. He could not imagine, in the tiers- 
etat^ any other views than the reform of abuses and 
the public good. A stranger to intrigue and sincere 
in his intentions, he followed the dictates of his con- 
science, and was acted upon by the purest sense of 
duty. In religion, as in politics, he was a believer, 
but tolerant, and was much rejoiced at seeing the 
removal of the protestant disabilities. He expected 
that the clergy would be called upon to make great 
sacrifices, but did not acticipate that they would be- 
come victims of the revolution. I saw him when the 
property of the church was declared national pro- 
perty. I found him, one day, with tears in his eyes, 

* Active and ardent in his party, he caused more to be done 
by others than he did himself. He laid down the plan of the 
battle, but remained in his tent during the combat. Girardin 
said of him, " He is to a party what a mole is to a grass-plot, he 
labours and raises it. " — Note by DumonU 



OF MIRABEAU. 89 

discharging his servants, reducing his hospitable 
establishment, and preparing to sell his jewels for the 
liquidation of his debts. He assuaged his grief by 
entering with me into the most confidential details. 
His regret was not selfish ; but he accused himself of 
having submitted to be made a dupe of by the tiers- 
etatf whose interests he had embraced, and who, as 
soon as they became strong, had violated the engage- 
ments they had contracted during their weakness. 
It was indeed painful to an honest and well-meaning 
man, to have contributed to the success of so unjust a 
party; but never could blame attach less to any indi- 
vidual than to the Bishop of Chartres. I cannot but 
mention two anecdotes of this worthy prelate, which 
I never think of without admiration. During the 
first insurrections, he was deputed by the assembly to 
proceed to a village near Versailles, and endeavour 
to save the life of an unfortunate baker, named Tho- 
massin, against whom the people v;^ere furious. The 
venerable bishop had exhausted all the means of rea- 
son and persuasion, but to no purpose. He saw the 
ferocious savages seize the unhappy wretch to tear 
him to pieces. He had not an instant to lose. With- 
out hesitation he threw himself upon his knees in a 
deep mire, and called upon the assassins to kill him 
also, rather than force him to witness so atrocious a 
crime. The frenzied multitude of men and women, 
struck with respect at this action, drew back an 

M 



90 RECOLLECTIONS 

instant, and gave the bishop time to help into his car- 
riage the wonnded and bleeding Thomassin. 

The other anecdote cannot be compared to this ; 
but it serves to show his excessive delicacy and high 
probity. At a period when pretended national re- 
forms had reduced so many individuals to distress, he 
had purchased, in the street, a gold box at a very 
low price. On his return home he perceived that the 
box was worth much more than he had paid for it. 
Uneasy at his purchase, and fearful of having taken 
an undue advantage of the wants of the seller, he did 
not rest until he had found him out and given him 
several louis-d'or in addition to what he had already 
paid, although he would have preferred to return the 
box, which, at that price, was no longer in unison 
with a situation he already perceived to be inevitable. 
" But," said he, ^^ if I return thebox, his wants may 
force him to sell it at a lower price than I first paid. 
This is but a small sacrifice, and it is perhaps the 
last I shall have it in my power to make.'' To con- 
clude what I have to say about this excellent man,— 
when, after his emigration, he was residing in a village 
in Germany, the Marquis of Lansdowne, who had 
known him at Spa, sent him, anonymously, a letter 
of credit for a hundred pounds. But he would not 
at first accept it, declaring that if he were unable to 
discharge such a debt, he would at least know his 
benefactor, for he did not choose to be exempted 



OF MIRABEAU. 91 

from gratitude. I had the satisfection of being the 
interpreter of Lord Lansdowne's sentiments on this 
occasion, and of testifying to him, under his misfor- 
tunes, that respect and esteem still entertained to- 
wards him by every person who had known him dur- 
ing his prosperity. 



92 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER IV. 



More than a month had elapsed in this state of 
suspense. Sieyes thought it was high time to send 
a positive summons to the nobility and clergy^ and, 
on their refusal, to proceed to the verification of 
powers, and put the commons into a state of activity. 
But this apparent loss of time had been turned to 
profit by the deputies of the tiers-etat. 

They had obtained public favour. The other two 
orders were divided among themselves, and the votes 
among the clergy nearly equalized. The people, 
who saw only the surface of things, considered the 
nobility and clergy as too obstinate to enter into any 
arrangement, they having already refused to assemble 
in the same hall as the deputies of the tiers-etat. 
The inhabitants of Versailles were in the habit of in- 
sulting, in the street and at the doors of the assembly, 
those whom they termed aristocrats ^ a term which, 
like all other party expressions, subsequently acquired 
a most direful influence. 



OF MIRABEAU. 93 

What surprises me is, that there was no counter 
designation to distinguish the opposite party, then 
called the nation. The effect of the latter term, 
placed in the balance with the other, may readily be 
conceived. The people of Paris, so easy to govern 
and so indolent in their state of repose, became by 
degrees filled, like a balloon, with inflammable gas. 

Though the commons began already to feel their 
strength, there were many different opinions on the 
manner of bringing it into use, and on the name which 
should be taken by the assembly as a collective body. 
The audacity afterwards shown, was then only in em- 
bryo. Every man of forethought judged that the 
most important consequences would result from the 
decision of such a question. To call themselves a 
national assembly, would be to depreciate to the 
lowest degree the king, the nobles, and the clergy ; 
— it would, if the government displayed any vigour, 
prove the beginning of civil war. To vote them- 
selves simply an assembly of the commons would, on 
the other hand, be only expressing an undoubted fact, 
and would not force the nobles and clergy to join 
them ; it merely maintained the subdivisions of the 
assembly then existing. Several titles were proposed 
as modifications of these two ; for each member en- 
deavoured to conceal his views and pretensions ; and 
even Sieyes himself, who rejected every thing tend- 



94 RECOLLECTIONS 

ing to maintain the orders, did not dare at once to 
propose the decisive term of national assembly. He 
first suggested an ambiguous denomination, imply- 
ing but not expressing that idea ; nor was it till after 
a debate of two or three days, that he ventured to pass 
the Rubicon, and get the motion made by a deputy 
called Legrand. There was an immediate and gene- 
ral call for putting it to the vote, and this voting, 
which lasted till very late at night, had something 
sombre and awful. The galleries had, with great 
difiiculty, been forced to absolute silence. There 
were eighty votes against the denomination of na- 
tional assembly, and nearly five hundred in its fa- 
vour. 

I have reserved, to mention separately, the part 
taken by Mirabeau in this debate. The question 
had already been discussed in our little society. The 
danger of a scission with the court and the nobles ; 
the evil of opening the states -general by a rupture 
between the orders ; the necessity of recurring to 
violent measures to support this first step and over- 
come resistance ; all these considerations were duly 
weighed ; but what had still more influence over us, 
was tTiat we bore in mind the English constitution, 
which we took for our model, and the division 
of the legislature into two branches appeared to 
us far preferable to a single assembly over whom 



OF MIHABEAU. 95 

there could be no check. Thougli we ultimately 
adopted this opinion, it was no easy matter to get 
Mirabeaii to support it as his own. It was against 
the popular torrent ; and it required courage to com- 
mence a determined and systematic opposition to 
Sieyes, the Bretons and the Palais Royal, and brave 
calumnies, clamours, and suspicions which such an 
apparent deviation from democratic principles might 
produce. But Mirabeau possessed, in a high degree, 
the courage produced by excitement, and was en- 
dowed with.great presence of mind. He had no ob- 
jection to an opposition of eclat; was not pleased 
with Sieyes, who did not flatter him ; and had suffi- 
cient confidence in himself to think, that he could 
redeem his popularity, should he be deprived of it 
by the opinion he was about to advocate. In pre- 
senting his motion, he paid many flattering compli- 
ments to the dominant party, abused the privileged 
orders, and concluded by proposing that the commons 
should be designated by the title of assembly of the 
French people. 

This motion, not very well understood at first, was 
not strongly opposed ; but when Mallouet, who passed 
for a ministerial, was seen to support it, and was bring- 
ing the moderates to his way of thinking, the popular 
party, in alarm, commenced a violent attack on Mira- 
beau. The word people, which had at first appeared 
synonymous with the word . nation, was now placed 



yo RECOLLECTIONS 

in another light, as having been invented to form 
opposition with the nobility and clergy who were 
not the people f and pretended to be above them. 
Invectives were not spared : the author of the motion 
w^as termed an aristocrat in disguise, who had insidi- 
ously endeavoured, by this title, to villify the true 
representatives of the French nation. The tempest, 
increasing by degrees, seemed to burst w^ith tenfold 
fury. I was then in one of the galleries talking to 
Lord Elgin, a young Scottish nobleman who much 
admired Mirabeau's motion. Indignant at the ab- 
surdities^ uttered about the word people^ I was unable 
to resist the pleasure of writing what I should ray- 
self have said, had I been a member of the assembly. 
After discussing the question, I wrote with a pencil 
a sort of apostrophe intended as a peroration. It 
was addressed to those pretended friends of liberty 
who fancied themselves degraded at being called 
deputies of the people. This sketch, very rapidly 
written, was not wanting in force and elevation. 
Lord Elgin begged I would permit him to read it, 
and as I had no ultimate view in writing it, I showed 
him the paper, with which he appeared much pleased. 
The dinner hour suspended the sitting, I dined 
at Mirabeau's. Duroverai reproached him with the 
weakness of his speech, and proved to him that he 
had neglected the strongest and most convincing argu- 
ments. I showed him my sketch, and the peroration 



OF MIRABEAU. . 97 

appeared to him so conclusive, that he instantly de- 
termined, he said, "to throw that burning tile at 
their heads.'* "This is impossible," said I, " for I 
showed it to Lord Elgin, who was next to me in the 
gallery." " And what difference does that make?" 
replied Mirabeau ; ^^ had you shown it to the whole 
world, I should certainly quote it as the passage best 
adapted to the subject." 

Duroverai, who had an extraordinary desire that 
this motion should succeed, began to write a refuta- 
tion of all the arguments used against it. Mirabeau 
copied as fast as he could, and the result was a tole- 
rably complete oration, for the delivery of which, it 
was only necessary to be allowed to speak. He found 
much dijQiculty in obtaining a hearing; but the gal- 
leries were so fond of listening to him, that the 
assembly durst not persist in a refusal. The exordium 
which I had written, excited a tolerable degree of 
attention — the argumentative part passed off with 
alternate murmurs and applause — but the peroration, 
which he delivered in a voice of thunder, and which 
was heard with a species of terror, produced an ex- 
traordinary effect. It was succeeded, not by cries, 
but by convulsions of rage. The agitation was gene- 
ral, and a storm of invectives burst upon the speaker 
from all parts of the hall. But he stood, calm and 
unmoved, whilst I, the poor author of this unhappy 
attempt, remained petrified in a corner, lamenting 

N 



98 RECOLLECTIONS 

an error of judgment so fatal to my friend and 

cause.* 

* The following is the peroration. " I persevere in my mo- 
tion and in its only expression that has called forth animadver- 
sion. — I mean the denomination of French people. I adopt 
it, I defend it, and I proclaim it for the very reason urged in 
objection to it.— Yes ! it is because the term people is not suffi- 
ciently respected in France, that it is cast into the shade and 
covered with the rust of prejudice ;— because it presents an idea 
alarming to our pride and revolting to our vanity — and is pro- 
nounced with contempt in the chamber of the aristocrats. It 
is for these very reasons, gentlemen, that I could wish (and we 
ought to impose the task upon ourselves), not only to elevate 
but to ennoble the name, and thus render it respectable to min- 
isters, and dear to every heart. If this title were not, in fact, 
already ours, it ought to be selected from amongst every other, 
and its adoption considered the most valuable opportunity of 
serving that people from whom we derive our authority — that 
people whose representatives we are— whose rights we defend 
— and yet, whose name, as forming our own denomination and 
title, would seem to raise the blush of shame on our cheeks. — 
Oh ! how should I exult if, by the choice of such a title, firmness 
and courage were restored to a trodden-down people ! My 
mind is elevated by the contemplation in futurity, of the happy 
results which may proceed from the use of this name ! The 
people will look up to us, and we to the people ; and our title 
will remind us of our duties and of our strength. Under the 
shelter of a name which neither startles nor alarms us, we can 
sow and cultivate the seeds of liberty ; — we can avert those fatal 
blasts that would nip it in the bud ; and if we so protect its 



OF MIRABEAU. 99 

When the tumult had somewhat subsided, Mira- 
beau, in a grave and solemn tone, thus addressed the 
president: ''Sir, I deposit upon your table the 

growth, our descendants will sit under the vivifying shade of its 
wide-spreading branches. — Representatives cf tlie people ! 
vouchsafe to answer me ! Will you go and tell your constituents 
that you have rejected this name o^ people? — that if you are not 
ashamed of them, you have, at all events, endeavoured to elude 
using their name, which does not appear to you a sufficiently 
flattering title ? — that you want a more fastuous denomination 
than they could confer upon you ? Gentlemen ! do you not per- 
ceive that the title of representatives of the people is absolutely 
necessary, inasn;iuch as it will insure to you the attachment of 
the people, that imposing mass, without which you would be 
nothing but single individuals — nothing but slender reeds which 
might easily be broken one by one ? Do you not see that you 
require the word people, because it shows the people that you 
have united your fate to theirs ; and it will teach them to centre 
in you all their thoughts and all their hopes ! — The Batavian he- 
roes who founded the liberties of their country, were more able 
tacticians than we are. They adopted the denomination ofgneux 
or beggarly fellows ; — they chose this title, because their tyrants 
had endeavoured to cast it upon them as a terra of opprobrium ; 
and this designation, by attaching to their party that numerous 
and powerful class so degraded by the despotism of the aristoc- 
racy, was, at the same time, their glory, their strength, and the 
pledge of their success. The friends of freedom select the name 
which is most useful to them, and not that by which they are the 
most flattered. They are called remonsirators in America, 
shepherds \n Switzerland, and gueux in the Low Countries. 



100 RECOLLECTIONS 

speech which has elicited such strong marks of dis- 
approbation, because it has not been properly under- 
stood. I consent to be judged, on the merits of its 
contents, by all the friends of liberty." So saying he 
left the hall amid threats and furious imprecations. 
I called on Mirabeau an hour after. I was over- 
come by feelings of dread and disappointment, but I 
found him triumphant, and reading his speech to 
some inhabitants of Marseilles who were expressing 
the most enthusiastic admiration of it. I must con- 
fess that he paid back to the assembly the slights he 
had received from them. He compared them to 
wild asses, who had obtained from nature no other 
faculty than that of kicking and biting. " They did 
not frighten me, my dear friend," said he in a pro- 
phetic tone, " and in a week you shall see me more 
powerful than ever. They must come to me, when 
they find themselves about to be overwhelmed by the 
tempest they have themselves raised. Regret not, 
therefore, the events of this evening. The thinkers 
will see something very profound in my motion. As 
for the fools, I despise them too much to hate them, 
and will save them in spite of themselves." With 

They consider the terms of reproach applied to them by their 
enemies, as their proudest boast ; for they deprive such terms 
of all power of humiliation, the moment they have succeeded in 
coupling them with honourable deeds ! — Note by the Genevese 
Editor. 



OF MIRABEAU. 101 

all this excess of pride and temporary courage, he 
had not^sufficient firmness to attend at the call of the 
house. He did not, therefore, vote upon the ques- 
tion ; and thus it was that his name did not appear 
on the list of the eighty deputies held up, to the 
people, as traitors sold to the aristocracy. Even his 
popularity did not suffer at the Palais Royal, whilst 
Mallouet, Mounier and several others who had 
maintained the same opinion less openly, were de- 
livered over to popular censure. 

On the following day, when Sieyes appeared in 
the hall, all the members, from a spontaneous feeling 
of respect, rose to receive him, and applause thun- 
dered from every side. ''How contemptible!" 
said Mirabeau. ^^Do they. imagine that all is over? 
I should not be surprised if civil war were the fruit 
of their wise decree.'' 

The nobles were confounded at the audacity of 
the tiers-etat. They who had access to the king, 
told him that all would be lost, if he did not oppose 
this usurpation on the part of the commons. The 
debates in the chamber of the nobility, were scenes 
of infuriated madness. The decree of the tiers-etat 
was termed an outrage, treachery, high treason. 
The frenzy was at its height ; and the king ought 
to have called all his faithful subjects to defend him, 
put himself at the head of his troops, ordered the 
seditious to be arrested, and dissolved the assembly. 



102 RECOLLECTIONS 

The cause of the events which followed, was to 
be traced to the excitement of party spirit, and to 
the violent language which resulted from it. It is 
necessary to have witnessed this ferment to compre- 
hend what followed. Many historical facts, stripped 
of the circumstances by which they were prepared, 
seem inexplicable. The atmosphere at Versailles 
was dark and scorching ; and the explosion which 
was expected to follow, must needs be terrible. 

At this juncture, Duroverai conceived a plan 
which he mentioned to M. Mallouet, but feared to 
confide to the indiscretion of Mirabeau, in whom 
neither party had any confidence. This plan was, 
that the king should sit as the provisional legislator 
of France, and annul the decree of the commons 
which constituted them a national assembly ; but 
that, at the same time, he should order the nobles 
and clergy to join the tiers-etat for the joint verifi- 
cation of their powers, and proceed in concert for 
the future. The object of this sitting was, therefore, 
to do by royal authority that which the commons 
had effected by setting aside the king's power: and 
to decree the union of the nobles and clergy with 
the tiers-etat, in order that this union should emanate 
from the king, and not from the commons. This 
was intended only to save appearances, for the re- 
sult would be the same. But by this measure, the 
nobility would not appear at the assembly under 



OF MIRABEAU. 103 

circumstances humiliating to their pride, and it 
would, moreover, put an end to those violent disputes 
between the three orders, which could only end 
either in the triumph of the commons, by means of 
a popular movement, or in the dissolution of the 
assembly, which would be the precursor of a civil 
war. 

Mallouet entered warmly into Duroverai's plan, 
and brought M. Necker to the same way of thinking ; 
but there was no direct communication between the 
latter and Duroverai. 

The plan of the royal session was adopted by the 
king, but M. Necker's arguments in its favour were 
made subservient to a modification which certainly 
he never intended. After an animated discussion 
in the council, the Count d'Artois and his party 
triumphed ; and it was resolved that the decree of 
the commons should be annulled, but without enjoin- 
ing a union of the orders. Thus was the real object 
of the measure done away, and nothing but its form 
remained. M. Necker had aimed at combining 
democracy with royalty ; but this measure had only 
invested aristocracy with despotism. The forms of 
authority which, with propriety, might be used to 
ennoble a necessary act of condescension, became 
revolting, when employed in an act of violence 
which the king had no means of following up. Not 
but the royal session in itself, when fairly considered, 



104 RECOLLECTIONS 

will be found to contain the strongest concessions 
which monarch ever made to his subjects; and which, 
at any other period, would have called forth their 
warmest gratitude/ When a prince is powerful, 
every thing he grants is a gift, every thing he does 
not take, is a favour; but if he be weak, that which 
he grants is only a debt due — that which he refuses 
to comply with, an injustice. * 

The commons determined to be a national assem- 
bly. Nothing less would satisfy them. If the 
government chose to oppose this, they should have 
prepared the means of doing so ; but to annul the 
decrees, and excite popular ferment, without taking 
a single precaution, without even having a party in 
the assembly, was an act of madness which led to 
the overthrow of the monarchy. Nothing is more 
dangerous than to stimulate a weak man to acts be- 
yond his strength ; for when resistance to his will 
has shown his real weakness, he has no resource left. 
Thus was the royal authority degraded, and even 
the people discovered the secret of the king's want 
of power. 

The measures attendant upon the royal session were 
as badly combined as if they had related to the acts 
of unruly school-boys. The hall of the states-gene- 
ral was closed for three or four days, A display of 
soldiers imparted to this measure the appearance of 



OF MlltABEAU. 105 

violence. The deputies, driven from their hall at 
the point of the bayonet, met in the famous Jeu-de- 
Paumef or Tennis-court, where they swore never to 
separate, until they had obtained a constitution. 

Even the eighty members forming the minority 
who had opposed the decree, took this oath ; for being- 
ignorant of what was going on, they imagined that 
the king was about to dissolve the states-general ; 
andMirabeau, then labouring under the same mistake, 
spoke so energetically against such dissolution, that 
even his greatest enemies began to look upon him 
as a giant, whose strength, in the present crisis of 
aifairs, had become necessary to them. This scene, 
— where fear was masked by an appearance of bold 
determination — where the most timid became the 
most violent — must have been witnessed to convey an 
adequate conception of the evils it produced in the 
course of the revolution. The alarmed deputies 
were for ever alienated from the king's government ; 
the oath was a tie of honour, and from that day, the 
deputies of the tiers-etat were confederated against 
the royal authority. This appearance of persecu- 
tion redoubled the popularity of the commons, and 
the Parisians were alarmed at their danger. The 
Palais-Royal was a scene of absolute frenzy ; and dark 
rumours seemed to menace the lives of some of the 
most distinguished individuals at court. In a hazy 
horizon, objects cannot be seen as they really are. 





106 RECOLLECTIONS 

The alarmed populace became suspicious and active, 
nor could any subsequent conciliatory measures of the 
court restore the public confidence. Such was the 
true origin of that burning excitement so carefully 
kept alive by two classes of men, the factious and the 
timid. 

The day after the meeting at the Jeu-de-Paume^ 
the deputies, still excluded from their hall, in which 
preparations were being made for the king's sitting, 
presented themselves at the door of several churches, 
but were not admitted. The sight of the represen- 
tatives of the nation thus seeking an asylum and finding 
none, increased the popular discontent. At length 
they entered the church of St Louis, where a doubt- 
ful majority of the clergy, headed by the Archbishop 
of Vienne, the Archbishop of Bordeaux, and the 
Bishop of Chartres, joined the deputies of the tiers- 
etat amid transports which the approaching danger 
rendered sincere. Greetings, applauses, pathetic 
speeches, and even tears, announced that all were 
united heart and hand against a common peril ; and 
the conduct of the clergy on this occasion was the 
more meritorious because it was voluntary. Who 
would have anticipated at this period, that very 
shortly after, an ecclesiastic would be unable to ap- 
pear in public without suffering the most degrading 
insults! 

On the day of the royal session, I went to the pal- 



OF MIRABEAU. 107 

ace to witness the splendid pageant. I well remember 
the hostile and triumphant looks of many individuals, 
in their way to the chateau. They thought their 
victory sure. I saw the king's ministers, whose emo- 
tion, though they aifected unconcern, was but too 
apparent. The attitude of the Count d'Artois was 
haughty ; the king seemed pensive and sad. The 
crowd was great, and the silence profound. When 
the king got into his carriage, there were rolling of 
drums and flourishes of trumpets, but not a sign of 
approbation from the people, and fear alone prevented 
an explosion of popular discontent. At length the 
vast procession began to move. The royal household 
and its officers, the guards, infantry and cavalry, 
proceeded towards the hall of the states-general, in 
which the three orders assembled were defying each 
other with looks of mute indignation, and impatiently 
awaiting the result of this important day. Never 
had passions so violent, and so diametrically opposed 
to each other, been before pent up in so small a space. 
The ceremony was precisely the same as on the open- 
ing of the states- general, but what a difference was 
there in the feelings of the assembly ! The day of 
the first ceremony was a national festival, — the, re- 
generation of political freedom ; but now, the same 
pomp which had delighted every eye, was covered 
with a veil of terror. The sumptuous dresses of 
the nobles, the magnificence of regal state, and the 



108 EECOLLECTIONS 

splendour of royal pageantry, seemed the accompani- 
ment of a funeral procession. 

I was not present at the sitting, and have obtained 
my knowledge of what passed from the recital of 
others ; but I know, that when the king and nobles 
had withdrawn, the comnioifs attempted to disguise 
their consternation. They began to perceive the 
consequences of the decree they had so unheedingly 
promulgated, and found that they had now no other 
alternative than to subjugate the monarchy, or basely 
recall their act. No one had yet attempted to 
speak, when a message from the king ordered them 
to separate. It was then that Mirabeau uttered 
those famous words which form an epoch in the revo- 
lution, and which roused the sunken spirits of the 
assembly.* The deliberation assumed a decisive 
character, and the royal sitting was termed a bed of 
justice. This called to mind how the parliaments 
had always acted on such emergencies — how often 
the latter had dared to annul the orders given to 
them by the king in person, and succeeded, by their 
perseverance, in triumphing over the court. Before 
the deputies separated, they confirmed their decree, 
and renewed the oath of the Jeu-de-Paume; and 
scarcely had the king entered the palace, when the 
proceedings of the royal session were cancelled. 

* " Go, tell your master that we are here by the power of the 
people, and nothing but the force of bayonets shall drive lis 
hence !" 



OF MIRABBAU. 109 

One circumstance which encouraged the resistance 
of the deputies, was that M. Necker had not attended 
the king on this occasion. He w^as the only minister 
not present, and his absence seemed to mark his 
disapprobation of the measure. His popularity 
thence prodigiously increased, and the people con- 
sidered him as their safe-guard against the storm. 
The assembly, who afterwards became jealous of the 
people's affection for him, because they wanted to 
engross it all to themselves, felt it their interest at 
that period, to make him a public idol, and, with 
his name, to counterbalance the court. His absence, 
however, originated in a very simple cause. There 
was a certain M. de Riol, who called himself a 
Chevalier and wore some Swedish order,— a very 
significant personage, who contrived to thrust him- 
self every where. Although a subaltern, he lived 
on terms of great familiarity with M. Necker. We 
had become acquainted with this individual, who 
called upon us on the very day of the royal session. 
He assured us that he had found M. Necker on the 
point of setting out for M. de Montmorin's, in order 
to proceed to the palace, and accompany the king 
to the assembly ; but that he (Riol) conjured him to 
do no such thing, as he would inevitably have to 
share in the odium of the measure, and would be un- 
able to do any good in future. Riol added, that he 
had carried his zeal so far as to tell Necker he would 



110 RECOLLECTIONS 

rather break one of his arms or legs, than suifer him 
to proceed; and that Madame Necker, in great 
agitation, having joined her entreaties to his, M. 
Necker at last yielded. I have no reason either to 
doubt or to confirm this fact ; but if it be true, M. 
Necker suffered his determination, on so important a 
matter, to be influenced by a very insignificant per- 
sonage.* It is, however, certain, that a witless man 
often communicates his fears in a more persuasive 
manner than an intellectual one ; and his gestures 
sometimes produce a stronger effect than either rea- 
son or eloquence. But surely M. Necker was not 
to blame for not sanctioning, with his presence, a 
measure in furtherance of which his speeches had 
been insidiously used, after changing the vital part 
of the plan he had proposed. 

Mirabeau was made acquainted by Claviere, who 
could not keep a secret, with the true origin of the 
royal session. He complained of it to me in terms 
of indignation. " Duroverai," said he, ^^did not 
think me worthy of being consulted. He looks upon 

* Impartiality forces us to state that Madame de Stael, in her 
*• Considerations on the French Revolution," (Chap 20) attri- 
butes M. Necker's absence to a determination previously taken, 
in consequence of the changes made in his plan ; and according 
to the same authority, M. Necker replied to the wish, expressed 
by the court, that he should be present at the royal session, by 
tendering his resignation. 



OF MIRABEAU. Ill 

me, I know, as a madman with lucid intervals. But 
I could have told him beforehand what would be the 
fate of his plan. It is not wdth such an elastic tem- 
perament as that of the French, that these brutal 
forms must be resorted to. And what kind of man 
is this M. Necker, that he should be trusted with 
such means ? You might as well make an issue in a 
wooden leg as give him, advice ; for he certainly 
could not follow it.'' /ind getting warmer as he 
proceeded, he conclu^led with these remarkable 
words, " It is thus that kings are led to the scaf- 
fold:' 



112 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER V. 



At this period great agitation commenced among 
the people. I have no doubt that there were meet- 
ings to promote insurrection, paid declaimers, a 
great deal of money distributed, and that the primary 
agents of the directors at Versailles, were more nu- 
merous among the minority of the nobles, than in 
the tiers-etat. I will not, indeed, venture to assert, 
that I am acquainted with particulars ; but I firmly 
believe that the deputies of the tiers-etat acted, at 
this momentous crisis, with very little concert among 
themselves. There was a commencement of organi- 
zation only among the deputies from Brittany, who 
had already been somewhat drilled into the tactics of 
popular assemblies, by their public disputes in their 
native province. So far as I was able to ascertain, 
the Breton club, which was acquiring great impor- 
tance, had been got up by the minority of the nobles ; 
but there will be no complete history of the revolu- 
tion, until some member of this party publishes the 



OF MIRABEAU. 113 

secret memoirs of its transactions. I well remember 
an anecdote of that period. I one day encountered 
Sieyes, who had just quitted a meeting composed of 
Bretons, and of members belonging to the minority 
of the nobles. He mentioned no names, but said, 
*^ I will return to those men no more. Their poli- 
tics are too cavernous, and they propose crimes 
instead of expedients." 

Duport and the Lameths had the reputation of 
having machinated the revolution of Paris. It was 
easy for the Duke of Orleans to put the centre dis- 
tricts in motion. He was like a spider in the midst 
of his web. But I know nothing of these events, 
except through public channels. Mirabeau was not 
connected with them. His fiery and ungovernable 
temper disqualified him for coalitions. His ideas 
were not sufiiciently connected, nor did he inspire 
sufficient confidence to become a chief, and he had 
too much pride to play a subordinate part. He 
therefore remained independent ; envious to an ex- 
cess of every rising influence, epigrammatic by 
wholesale, a retail dealer in flattery, and alienated 
from his colleagues by his contempt for some, and 
his jealousy of others. I often went to Paris with 
him, and I am convinced that he had no share in the 
rising of the Parisians. 

They who would account for the French revolu- 
tion, by attributing it to concealed machinators; are 
p 



114 RECOLLECTIONS 

mistaken. Such machinators did certainly not pro- 
duce the public feeling ; they only took advantage 
of it. It is true, that they excited and directed it ; 
but it is absurd to suppose that any conspirators, at 
this period, could have caused so sudden and violent 
an impulse ; — one, in short, so vast as to include, 
simultaneously, the whole French nation. Every 
one was in motion at Paris; even the coldest and 
most calculating participated in the phrenzy of the 
moment. The whole popular mass was in a state of 
extreme caldescence. A word from the Palais 
Royal, an accidental movement, the merest trifle, in 
fine, might cause a general commotion. In such a 
state of things, tumult begets tumult, and the disease 
of the evening is aggravated next day. 

Although the details are somewhat eifaced from 
my recollection, I yet well remember the interval 
between the royal session and the mournful appari- 
tion of the king, at the assembly, when he came to 
deliver himself up, or rather to place his person in 
deposit there, after the capture of the Bastille. I 
recollect this period as one of trouble, confusion, 
and obscurity. False alarms were given, people 
knew and did not know, orders were given and re- 
voked, every thing was attempted to be guessed at 
and explained, and a motive was attributed to the 
most indiiferent actions. The palace was watched ; 
spies were placed every where, and each trifle was 



OF MIRABEAU. 115 

made of consequence. There were insurrections at 
Versailles, originating, not in a preconcerted plan, 
but in a suspicious and irascible disposition. Mean- 
time, the three orders remained divided, and had 
assumed hostile attitudes. The court sent troops to 
quell these insurrections. Versailles was filled with 
foreign soldiers, and military measures seemed every 
where adopted. There were whispers of a change 
of ministry, and the new names mentioned did not 
tend to tranquillize the commons. So much bustle 
on the part of the court, could be intended only to 
enforce obedience to the royal session, either by re- 
moving the assembly to a greater distance from 
Paris, its proximity to which was dangerous, or by 
dissolving it altogether, if this could be done without 
the risk of a civil war, the idea of which made the 
king shudder. But whatever were the intentions 
of the court or of those who conducted its aifairs, 
such intentions were certainly not in unison with 
those of the king; there was an alarming secrecy in 
the whole conduct of the court party; secret prepa- 
rations were discovered, and plans seemed to be in a 
course of development, but no result was ever per- 
ceived. Such conduct raised general indignation, 
and the fermentation at Paris was dreadful. 

Reybaz and Claviere returned from Paris, and 
assured us that it would be impossible to contain the 



116 RECOLLECTIONS 

people. They urged Mirabeau to stand forward 
upon this occasion. " If/' said they, '^ the tiers-etat 
were wrong in voting themselves a national assembly, 
still it is a measure which cannot now be recalled, 
without degrading the representatives of the people, 
and affording a complete triumph to the insolence of 
the aristocracy. Should the states- general be dis- 
solved, a national bankruptcy must be the inevitable 
consequence. The people will rejoice at this, because 
the government will reduce the taxes ; there will be 
then no further difficulty, and the cause of freedom 
will be lost." I am certain, that at this period, the 
creditors of the state, a very numerous and active 
body, who were all powerful at Paris, were acting in 
direct opposition to the court, because they perceived 
but too plainly, that if the government declared a 
national bankruptcy, the deficit would be thought no 
more of, and the words states- general j, constitutiony 
and sovereignty of the people , totally forgotten. 

It was at length discovered, that agents of the 
court were sounding the regiments recently arrived 
at Versailles, and likewise the French guards, in 
order to ascertain how far their fidelity to the govern- 
ment might be depended on. There was now no 
time to be lost, and it was thought necessary that the 
king himself should be warned of these manoeuvres, 
the object and danger of which were probably con- 



OF MIRABEAU. 117 

cealed from him. These points were introduced by 
Mirabeau into his famous speech upon the removal 
of the troops. Tliis speech was a sort of abstract of 
every thing that had been said upon the subject, 
during our private conferences. I wrote it, arid 
Duroverai drew up the resolutions containing the 
proposed measure. One of these resolutions called 
upon the king to establish a militia of citizens. It 
was the only one rejected by the assembly, though, 
perhaps, it was the most important. Duroverai saw 
that if the people took up arms, the royal authority 
would be annihilated; but if the king himself armed 
the citizens, such a choice of men and oJBicers might 
be made, that this institution, like the English mili- 
tia, would be a bulwark against insurrection, without 
alarming the advocates of liberty. The last of these 
resolutions was to present an address to the king, 
relative to the removal of the troops. A committee 
was appointed to draw up this address; for the 
assembly sent every thing to committees, in order to 
give as little importance as possible to individuals. 
But as writing in common is the most difficult of all 
conjunct functions, Mirabeau was requested by the 
committee to make a draft of the address. Anima- 
ted by the success of the speech, and full of the sub- 
ject, encouraged, moreover, by the flattery and 
aifectionate caresses of Mirabeau, whom the applause 
of the assembly had filled with delight, I wrote with 



118 RECOLLECTIONS 

great ease and rapidity, in the interval between one 
sitting and another, the address to the king.* 

I remember a circumstance which amused me at 
the time. Garat, who was a member of the commit- 
tee, came to ask the hour at which Mirabeau could 
attend. I was then in the heat of composition, and 
he was obliged to elude replying, by shuffling and 
giving an oblique turn to the question. Next day, 
at M. de la Rochefoucauld's, another member of the 
committee, whose name I forget, spoke greatly in 
favour of this address, and praised the modesty of 
Mirabeau, who had consented to all the alterations 
demanded, as if, in this composition, he had foregone 
his vanity of authorship. I know not whether my 
self-love were more sensible on the occasion than his, 
but I certainly thought that the alterations had not 
improved the address. Duroverai kept the original 
for a long time, a thing I did not even think of. 
Though flattered by the applause bestowed upon 
this production, I was not silly enough to fancy it a 
masterpiece. I considered that its greatest merit 
arose from the circumstance which occasioned it. 
There was dignity and simplicity in the style, with 
as much oratorical eloquence as was consistent with 
the respect due to the monarch, and with the dig- 
nity of the assembly who addressed him. The 

* Vide Appendix, No. 1. 



OF MIHABEAU. 119 

expressions were measured and unctuous, and the 
whole was in good keeping with the subject. Mira- 
beau approved of it the more because he felt himself 
unable to write in this particular way : ^^ My style 
readily assumes force," said he, ^^and I have a com- 
mand of strong expressions ; but, if I want to be mild, 
unctuous, and measured, I become insipid, and my 
flabby style makes me sick." 

Had I afterwards discovered any faults in this ad- 
dress, I must not have pointed them out to Mirabeau ; 
for he attached himself so strongly to his adopted 
children that he felt for them the affection of a pa- 
rent.* 

If the honour of these compositions had belonged 
to another, it must not be thought that the unknown 
author would have derived no satisfaction from them. 
The approbation of a circle of some half dozen friends 
is always flattering, without including those whom 
they may have let into the secret. I have not to ac- 
cuse myself of any indiscretion of this kind ; or, 

* When T worked for Mirabeau, I seemed to feel the pleasure 
of an obscure individual who had changed his children at nurse, 
and introduced them into a great family. He would be obliged 
to respect them, although he was their father. Such was the 
case with my writings. When Mirabeau had once adopted them, 
he would have defended them even against me ; more than that 
^he would have allowed me to admire them, as an act of esteem 
and friendship for himself. — Note by Dumont. 



120 RECOLLECTIONS 

strictly speaking, perhaps, my own self-love may 
have been the best guardian of the secret 5 for the 
instant I had been tempted to reveal it^ I should have 
fancied that I perceived an expression of doubt and 
incredulity upon every countenance. But in sober 
earnest, I can declare that, knowing such a proceed- 
ing to be repugnant to delicacy and friendship, the 
temptation never once occurred to me. 

I was not long in perceiving that Mirabeau's friends 
considered Duroverai and me as his writers. His 
life of agitation, his being much out, his occupations 
at the assembly, his committees, his loss of time, and 
his taste for pleasure, prevented those who knew him 
from considering him the author of the writings which 
appeared in his name. At a later period, a greater 
number of workmen were added to this manufactory. 
But when I was designated in the ^cts of the Jlpos- 
ties, and other pamphlets, at one of Mirabeau's au- 
thors, I no longer felt the same pleasure in writing 
for him ; and this circumstance determined me, as I 
shall hereafter explain, to return to England. 

The king's answer to the address was not satisfac- 
tory. His personal intentions were thought good, 
and he was supposed to be led astray by deception 
practised upon him. There was a plan in a course 
of development, whose extent and object were not 
known. But the threats of certain subordinates, 
their insulting looks, apparent preparations for a 



OF MIRABEAU. 121 

coup d'etat, the movements of the troops, nocturnal 
visits to the guard houses by officers of rank, secret 
councils at court, to which M. Necker was not sum- 
moned, and a thousand particulars of the same de- 
scription, constituted the events of every day. These 
were again exaggerated and distorted by the general 
uneasiness and alarm. No one was yet bold enough 
to speak of the conspiracy of the court — this name 
was not applied till after the victory ; — but the con- 
sternation was general. The approach of the troops 
and the dismissal of M. Necker, brought on the in- 
surrection of Paris. I say nothing of the public 
events of which I was not an eye-witness. I remained 
at Versailles with the national assembly, whose in- 
trepidity was not to be shaken by the approach of 
danger. It was no longer divided into parties ; all 
had one unanimous feeling. The dissolution of the 
states- general appeared to all pregnant with the 
greatest danger. 

The sitting of Monday, the 13th of July, was 
awfully calm. There were a thousand confused re- 
ports relative to what had occurred at Paris on the 
preceding day. It was known that the people had 
repulsed the regiment of the prince of Lambesc, and 
driven it back to the Tuilleries : that the French 
guards had joined the people, and had been engaged 
with the Swiss ; that the populace were arming, that 
they had broken open the armourer's shops, and 
Q 



122 RECOLLECTIONS 

closed the city gates , and that Paris, in a word, was 
in open insurrection. Mirabeau told us that he had 
a list of proscriptions 5 that Sieyes, Chapelier, La- 
fayette, Lameth, himself, and several others, were to 
be arrested ; that they had been put upon their guard 
and intended to pass the night at the assembly, where 
they should consider themselves safer than in their 
own houses. The assembly continued its sitting 
throughout the night, and in the intervals between 
the deputations dispatched to the king to beseech him 
to withdraw the troops whose presence had inflamed 
the metropolis ; they discussed, if I remember rightly, 
a declaration of the rights of man, presented by Lafay- 
ette. In his answer to the deputation, the king stated 
that his heart was lacerated ; that it was impossible 
the orders he had given, for the restoration of the 
public peace, could have led to the rising of Paris. 
But he spoke not of withdrawing the troops, and the 
individuals by whom he was surrounded, were not 
calculated to restore confidence. The plan of the 
court seemed to continue its progress, when the as- 
sembly made a last effort, and on the Tuesday morn- 
ing sent a more solemn deputation to the king. Mi- 
rabeau, with a voice rendered hoarse by watching, 
fatigue, and uneasiness, said a few words, which were 
rapturously applauded. 

It is a well known fact that the troops at Versailles 
hac} declined obedience ; and that after the fall of 



OF MIRABEALT. 123 

the Bastille, and the metamorphosis^ which, in two 
days, had changed the peaceful citizens of Paris into 
an army of two hundred thousand men, the king had 
no other alternative than to unite himself to the na- 
tional assembly, and seek his safety among its members. 
What a contrast, then, did the sitting of the 18th of 
June form with those which had preceded it ! The 
king announced his intention of going to Paris forth- 
with. Mirabeau, astonished at this resolve, and still 
more so at its subsequent execution, afterwards said 
to me, ^* He must be a bold mortal who advised this 
step. Had the king not followed the advice, Paris 
was lost to him for ever. Two or three days later, 
and he would have been unable to return thither." 
I attribute these words to the singular sagacity with 
which Mirabeau was gifted. He knew the Duke of 
Orleans's party, and might have thought that this 
prince would have taken advantage of the circum- 
stances to obtain possession of the metropolis. If the 
Duke's party did indeed form any such plan, it was 
frustrated by the sudden appearance of the king, 
who, thereby, in some degree, revived the almost 
extinct affection of the Parisians. It seemed as 
though the two hundred thousand men under arms 
had concerted among themselves to receive him with 
the most appalling solemnity. In proceeding to the 
Hotel-de-Ville, he heard no other cry than, *^ long 
live the assembly !" but on his return, as if the chas- 



124 RECOLLECTIONS 

tisement had been severe enough, he was saluted by 
acclamations of "long live the king!" 

The king was a man of w^eak character, but by no 
means timid ; of which his conduct on this day fur- 
nished a striking illustration. It required a great de- 
gree of courage to go into the midst of an enraged pop- 
ulace, w^ho seemed conferring a favour on their mo- 
narch by receiving him within the walls of his own 
capital. When M. Bailly told him that Henry IV. 
had conquered his people, but the people had now 
conquered their king, he turned round and said in a 
whisper to the Prince of Beauveau, "Perhaps I had 
better not hear that." The Prince of Beauveau 
made a sign, in reply, and the orator proceeded. 

The death of the Marquis of Mirabeau, the author 
of " The Friend of Man,^^ obhged Mirabeau to 
absent himself from the assembly for a few days. 
This occurred during the motions for the recall of 
M. Necker, and against the new ministers. M. Ber- 
trand de Molleville, who has enriched his pretended 
<^ Annals of the Revolution" with all his own preju- 
dices, has attributed Mirabeau's silence on these oc- 
casions to profound intentions. 

Mirabeau had made me promise to employ my lei- 
sure time in writing for him a sketch of the revolu- 
tion. I began it at Paris, but I had great difficulty 
in collecting facts, reconciling contradictions, redu- 
cing exaggeration, and separating truth from false- 



OF MTRABEAU. 125 

hood. The causes of events were always hidden, 
the secret councils of the court unknown. Much 
might always be urged on both sides of the question, 
and it might be maintained with perhaps equal plau- 
sibility, that there was a court conspiracy, and that 
there was not. It appeared to me necessary to dis- 
tinguish the acts of the king from those of his min- 
isters, and to represent him as having concurred in a 
plan of which the most vital points had been con- 
cealed from him. Even with regard to Paris itself, 
the more the scene was extended, the more confused 
were the details. Some described to me the capture 
of the Bastille as a wonderful achievement ; others 
reduced it to a mere nothing, and I really knew not 
what conclusion to come to with regard to Launay and 
his invalids. The crimes of the period appeared to 
me the mere effect of sudden excitement, but every 
one seemed to believe that they were mixed up with 
treachery. Persuaded at last that the secret history 
of no great political event was ever well known even 
at the period of its occurrence, I wrote, in the best 
way I could, the account contained in the nineteenth 
letter of Miraheau to his constituents, in which he 
made some alterations, and struck outsome express- 
ions of doubt, because the court conspiracy was more 
manifest to him than to me. This letter was prodi- 
giously successful. 



126 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER VI. 



All Mirabeau's letters to his constituents, begin- 
ning from the eleventh, were written by either Du- 
roverai or me. Mirabeau, who was very desirous of 
keeping us at Paris during the session of the Nation- 
al Assembly, proposed a literary partnership which 
oifered a good chance of profit. This was to write 
a regular journal in his name, the profits of which, 
after deducting the expenses, should be equally di- 
vided between himself, le Jay the bookseller, Durov- 
erai and me. We were to include in the outgoings 
of the paper a reasonable monthly sum for our current 
expenses. The title of the journal was " Le Courrier 
de ProvenceP It was announced in the nineteenth 
letter to which. I alluded at the end of the last chap- 
ter ; and although the subscription was high, so many 
subscribers appeared, that we all fancied our fortunes 
made. In a few days, our list contained more than 
three thousand names. Orders from the provinces 
were large in proportion. If le Jay had been a man of 



OF MIRAEEAU. 127 

business; or if his wife, who managed every thing, 
had shown a little order and probity, they would have 
acquired a rapid fortune, for they had a considerable 
allowance for printing and commission. They had, 
besides, a fourth part of the net profits, and Mirabeau 
had given up his share to them also; but their impro- 
priety of conduct and rapacity ruined the undertak- 
ing. Being entirely occupied in writing the articles, 
and residing, moreover, at Versailles, we were obliged 
to trust wholly to their integrity. The subscribers 
were continually making complaints ; and those in the 
provinces were so neglected that they were sometimes 
a whole month without receiving any paper, because 
le Jay had often not money enough to pay for the car- 
riage of the papers by the diligence. The parcels 
were delayed, and the country booksellers complained 
without obtaining redress. The printer at Paris re- 
fused to print when his payments were behind hand, 
and Mirabeau was often obliged to make advances to 
keep the thing going. When, at the expiration of 
four months, we called for an account, there was none 
forthcoming. Madame le Jay concealed her books. 
She had furnished her house and stocked her shop 
with the money received, and her small pamphlet 
stall had been converted into a splendid bookseller's 
shop ; in short, all in her establishment announced 
opulence; but having appropriated to herself the 
amount of the subscriptions, she would come to no 



128 RECOLLECTIONS 

settlement. I left it to Duroverai to settle this busi- 
ness, for litigation did not accord with my habits. 
Money matters interested me very little, and I un- 
derstood them not. Mirabeau was placed between 
two fires. He was irritated at Madame le Jay's dis- 
honesty, and said to her one day in my presence, 
*' Madame le Jay, if probity did not exist, it should 
be invented as a means of growing rich." But 
Madame le Jay had other means of obtaining the vic- 
tory, and Mirabeau's liaison with this artful and de- 
termined female permitted him not to make too much 
noise. She was in possession of all his secrets ; knew 
too many anecdotes about him ; and was too danger- 
ous and too fond of mischief for him to think of a 
rupture, although he was tired of her, and in the 
high sphere in which he was moving, often felt that 
such a connection degraded him. This is the only 
time, during the whole course of my life, that I was 
ever involved in a dispute relative to money matters, 
and had an opportunity of closely observing the ma- 
noeuvres of fraud and the passion of cupidity. Le 
Jay was a fool who promised every thing ; but he 
trembled like a child before his wife. Mirabeau, 
ashamed of our disappointment, swore that the nation- 
al assembly was easier to govern than a woman who 
had made up her mind. But violence is always over- 
come by sang-froid. She replied to his reproaches 
with the most piquant raillery. "All the bar," 



OF MIRABEAU. 129 

said he, ^^ would grow grey before they could con- 
vince her. I defy the most artful lawyer to find the 
subtleties which she invents.'^ As it was impossible 
to recover our money by a law-suit, we came to a 
determination of ceasing our contributions to the jour- 
nal. This disconcerted her at first ; but she thought 
she could easily induce me to go on again, and under- 
took it in a conversation full of artifice. Without 
anger, and without even alluding to the subject of our 
quarrel, I drily told her that I would never separate 
from Duroverai. " Very well," replied she, " do as 
you please. I am sorry for it ; but there are other 
writers in this great city besides you, and I have al- 
ready received advances from several." On leaving 
me she applied to all the literary men she knew, and 
proposed her journal; for in her own opinion it was 
as much her property as any estate she might have 
purchased ; and she had considered Duroverai and 
me merely as two labourers in her hire. After many 
fruitless attempts, she at length got two individuals to 
undertake it; one of whom was M. Guiraudez, a 
man of talent and learning, whom I had met at Mira- 
beau's. Such a proceeding, more than uncivil, and 
which surprised me much, met with its just reward ; 
for had these gentlemen possessed more talent than 
really belonged to them, they had not not been in the 
practice of attending the national assembly, were una- 
ble to designate individuals, and having no communi- 



130 RECOLLECTIONS 

cations with any of the deputies, through whom alone 
they could have ascertained what was going on be- 
hind the scenes, they gave nothing but long and tame 
extracts from speeches, without being able to afford 
any interesting information. Mirabeau was furious 
at the abuse of his name, and wanted to insert notices 
in all the public prints. 

Complaints to Madame le Jay poured in from all 
quarters. Guiraudez and his colleague, ashamed of 
their conduct, and still more at their want of success, 
— overwhelmed, moreover, with reproaches from 
Mirabeau, — repented of what they had done ; and 
without coming to any settlement with Madame le 
Jay about the past, we entered into a new arrange- 
ment for the future. 

I know not why I have written these insignificant 
details. I shall expunge them if I find hereafter 
that these Recollections become suflSciently interest- 
ing to deserve my more particular attention. 

The composition of this journal became a source 
of amusement to us. Duroverai and I undertook 
the alternate sittings of the assembly. A few words 
written in pencil, sufficed to call to our recollection 
the arguments of a speech and the order of a debate. 
We never intended to give all the idle prating in the 
tribune. As most of the important speeches were 
written, Mirabeau took care to ask for them for us, 
and many deputies sent them as from themselves. 



OF MIR ABE AU. 131 

The most diffuse sometimes complained of our re- 
ducing their dropsical and turgescent productions. 

Though few were satisfied, yet Mirabeau received 
thanks which he did not fail to transmit us. '^ The 
provincials must think, '^ said Chapelier to him, 
^^that we speak like oracles, when we are read 
stripped of our verbiage and nonsense." 

Our principal care in important discussions, was to 
omit no argument advanced by either party. It was 
an impartial expose of the case. Even Mirabeau, 
although his extravagances were palliated, obtained 
no flattery. Barring a few innocent pleasantries, 
which served to amuse our readers, we never indulged 
in personalities, and, except in a few particular cases, 
Mirabeau himself felt that the greatest service we 
could render him was never to lend ourselves to the 
vengeance of his self-love. Sieyes complained bit- 
terly of some criticisms upon his ^'^ Rights of Man" 
and upon his ^^ Principles of Constitutions." " Do 
not make me quarrel with that man," said Mira- 
beau, <^for his vanity is implacable." 

I have lately read many articles of this journal, 
and am now surprised at the boldness with which the 
assembly is censured. The want of order and con- 
nection in its constitutional and financial operations ; 
its manner of laying down general principles and over- 
looking details ; its insidious manner of anticipating 
decisions ; its having overthrown the old established 



132 RECOLLECTIONS 

authority before other institutions were formed to 
replace it 5 its constituting itself an oflGice of delation ; 
and its usurpation of ministerial duties, are all visited 
with severe comments. The defects of its internal 
regulations are presented with the boldness of naked 
truth, and a faithful picture is given of its incoherent 
disorder, and the fiery impatience always attendant 
upon its proceedings. 

During an absence of Duroverai, in 1790, M. 
Reybaz, who had already supplied us with several 
very interesting articles, undertook his share of the 
work, and executed it with much more accuracy than 
he. I ended my labours, in the beginning of March, 
by a discussion on religious communities and the 
spirit of monarchism. Duroverai and Reybaz con- 
tinued together for some months, and the paper, 
abandoned at length by Mirabeau, became a mere 
compilation of speeches and decrees, and retained 
nothing of our journal but the name. 

I was often disgusted with this work, because 
the simple operation of abridging speeches and 
reporting the tumultuous proceedings of the assem- 
bly, was not a kind of occupation to afford me plea- 
sure. On the other hand, the rapidity of the whirl- 
wind by which the assembly was swept along, left no 
time for study and meditation. Thus the work, in 
spite of some tolerable articles, is mediocre and often 
very bad. I am not surprised that it incurred at last 



OF MIRABEAU. 133 

the same contempt as all the ephemeral productions 
of that period. I shall, however, extract in another 
place, some passages which may serve to give an 
idea of the interior of the assembly, and which no one 
would take the trouble of looking for in a large com- 
pilation. 

Besides my contributions to this journal, I con- 
tinued to supply my share of Mirabeau's legisla- 
tive labours. I shall now proceed to matters much 
more interesting. 



134 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER VII. 



After the insurrection of Paris, the national as- 
sembly was soon completed by the union with it 
of the majority of the nobles and the minority 
of the clergy. The forms of ordinary civility 
were still entertained, by the tiers-etaty towards 
these two orders, who were received with silence 
and dignity, but without bravado. The speeches 
of Bailly, then president of the assembly, were too 
complimentary, and sincerity was sacrificed to good- 
breeding. Whilst the bosoms of all were ulcerated 
and bleeding, their words breathed nothing but 
friendship and concord. These manoeuvres were in- 
tended to impose upon the people ; but the people 
were not to be so imposed upon, and such forced and 
evidently hypocritical language tended only to de- 
stroy their confidence in the assembly. 

The disorders of the Paris insurrection had not 
ceased, and the massacres with which the metropolis 
had been disgraced, were imitated in the provinces. 



OF MIRABEAU. 135 

Under these circumstances, several members pro- 
posed an address from the national assembly to the 
people. After the success of my first, I considered 
addresses as belonging to my peculiar department, 
and I wrote one which was a species of political ser- 
mon. It was at first applauded, but ultimately re- 
jected. I know not whether it thwarted the views 
of certain persons ; be that as it may, it was much 
praised but not accepted. It was afterwards printed 
in the Courrier de Provence,* Whether this ad- 
dress were adopted or not, it would have made not 
the slightest difference. Insurrections are not to be 
arrested by words ; and if, under such circumstances, 
an exhortation ever succeeds, it is when used only 
as a preamble to force. 

So fearful were the assembly of ofiending the 
people, that motions tending to the repression of 
disorder, and the censure of popular excesses, were 
considered almost as snares. Mistrust was still in 
every bosom. The assembly had triumphed by 
means of the people, towards whom, therefore, they 
could not display great severity ; and it is a notorious 
fact, that although they often stated in their pream- 
bles how severely they were afflicted and irritated, 
at the violent excesses committed by the brigands, 
who burned chateaus and insulted the nobility — they 

* Vide Appendix, No. 2. 



136 RECOLLECTIONS 

secretly rejoiced, in reality, at the existence of a 
terror, which they conceived salutary. They had 
placed themselves between the alternatives of fearing 
the nobles, or being feared by them. They censured 
to save appearances, but policy prevented them 
from punishing ; they paid compliments to authority, 
but gave encouragement to licentiousness. Respect 
for the executive was, with them, a mere formula of 
style, and, in fact, when the king's ministers came 
and manifested their weakness, and revealed their 
direful anticipations, the assembly, remembering their 
own late fears, were not sorry that fear had changed 
sides. ^^ If you were powerful enough to be feared 
by the people, you would be sufficiently so to be 
feared by us I" Such was the feeling prevalent 
among what was called the cote gauche. It was the 
reaction of fear. 

I must not omit that, at this period, not only the 
general opinion in France, but that of all Europe, 
was in favour of the democratic party in the assem- 
bly. A feeling of pleasure was generally enter- 
tained at a revolution which had overthrown the 
ancient government of France. 

It may be said, with truth, that throughout Eu- 
rope, all who were not patricians, had trembled for 
the fate of the commons, and had considered their 
delivery as a service rendered to the human race in 
general. It was the cause of mankind against the 



OF MIRABEAU. 137 

powers usurped by the exclusive and privileged 
classes. The unhappy events which debased the 
revolution, throw at the present day a sinister shade 
even upon its very cradle. We are ashamed of hav- 
ing admiredj at its birth, a cause which, during its 
progress, we were forced to abhor. But let the im- 
partial historian recollect, that when the French 
revolution first broke out, there was a general excite- 
ment, a sort of intoxication of hope ; and that the 
enthusiasm raised by the grandeur of the object, 
generated a degree of insensibility to its first ex- 
cesses, which were considered merely as unfortunate 
accidents occurring during the ceremony of a na- 
tional triumph. Surely, every part of a ruined and 
antiquated edifice could not fall to the ground with- 
out crushing some of the mistaken individuals who 
persevered in their endeavours to prop it up. Such 
was the opinion of the master minds of Europe, of 
the soundest philosophers, the greatest philanthro- 
pists, and the dearest friends of freedom. If it 
were an error, it was a universal one. England, as 
the noblest and most free, declared her opinions in a 
more marked manner than other states ; and in that 
kingdom, the news of the fall of the Bastille was re- 
ceived with the most joyful acclamations. If the 
British government did not allow that event to be re- 
presented on the stage, it was only from personal 
respect for the king of France. The whole nation 



138 RECOLLECTIONS 

felt the strongest sympathy towards the French peo- 
ple, with whom they sincerely rejoiced at the over- 
throw of despotism. 

This enthusiasm was maintained almost throughout 
the existence of the first national assembly. It 
diminished after the events of the 5th and 6th of 
. October. Many admirers cooled in their praise, and 
many influential men began to think that the French 
people were treating, with too great indignity, a king 
who had done so much for them ; and to fear that the 
national character was too impetuous, and too violent 
for the rational enjoyment of freedom. So small, how- 
ever, was the number of individuals who disapprov- 
ed, that their opinion made but a slight impression. 
The first decisive blow struck at the enthusiasm in 
favour of the revolution, was that famous production 
of Burke's, in which alone he grappled with the gi- 
gantic strength of the assembly, and represented 
these new legislators, in the full enjoyment of power 
and honours, as so many maniacs, who could destroy, 
but who were unable to replace. This work, res- 
plendent with genius and eloquence, though written 
in an age when imagination was on the decline, led 
to the formation of two parties in England. How- 
ever the arguments of Burke may seem to have been 
justified by posterior events, it yet remains to be 
shown, that the war cry then raised against France 
did not greatly contribute to the violence which 



OF MIUABEAU. 139 

characterised that period. It is possible, that had 
he merely roused the attention of the governments 
and wealthy classes to the dangers of this new poli- 
tical creed, he might have proved the saviour of Eu- 
rope ; but he made such exaggerated statements, and 
used arguments so alarming to freedom, that on many 
points, he was not only plausibly, but victoriously 
refuted. Be that as it may, this publication of 
Burke's, which was a manifesto against the assembly, 
had a prodigious success in England. The Ger- 
mans, who more than any other people, had winced 
under the yoke of the nobles, persevered in their 
admiration of the French legislators. 

The united national assembly commenced their 
proceedings with the famous declaration on the rights 
of man. The idea was American, and there was 
scarcely a member who did not consider such a de- 
claration an indispensable preliminary. I well re- 
member the long debate on the subject, which lasted 
several weeks, as a period of mortal ennui. There 
were silly disputes about words, much metaphysical 
trash, and dreadfully tedious prosing. The assem- 
bly had converted itself into a Sorbonne, and each 
apprentice in the art of legislation was trying his 
yet unfledged wings upon such puerilities. After 
the rejection of several models, a committee of five 
members was appointed to present a new one. Mira- 
beau, one of the five, undertook the work with his 



140 RECOLLECTIONS 

usual generosity, but imposed its execution upon his 
friends. He set about the task, and there were he, 
Duroverai, Claviere, and I, writing, disputing, add- 
ing, striking out, and exhausting both time and 
patience upon this ridiculous subject. At length 
we produced our piece of patchwork, our mosaic of 
pretended natural rights which never existed. Dur- 
ing the progress of this stupid compilation, I made 
some reflections, which had never struck me before. 
I felt the inconsistency and ridicule of a work, 
which was only a puerile fiction. A declaration of 
rights could be made only after the framing of the 
constitution, and as one of its consequences; for 
rights exist in virtue of laws, and therefore do not 
precede them. The maxims sanctioned by this de- 
claration ; that is to say, the principles intended to be 
established by it, are dangerous in themselves, for 
legislators should not be tied down to general propo- 
sitions which they are afterwards obliged to alter or 
modify ; — above all, they must not be cramped by 
false maxims. Men are born free and equal! that is 
not true. They are not born free , on the contrary, 
they are born in a state of weakness and necessary 
dependence. .E^^^wa/.Miow are they so? or how caw 
they be so? if by equality is understood equality of 
fortune, of talents, of virtue, of industry, or of rank, 
then the falsehood is manifest. It would require 
volumes of argument to give any reasonable meaning 



OF MIRABEAU. 141 

to that equality proclaimed without exception. In 
a word, my opinion against the declaration of the 
rights of man was so strongly formed, that this time 
it influenced that of our little committee. Mirabeau, 
on presenting the project, even ventured to make 
some objections to it, and proposed to defer the decla- 
ration of rights until the constitution should be com- 
pleted. "I can safely predict/^ said he, in his bold 
and energetic style, <* that any declaration of rights 
anterior to the constitution, will prove but the al- 
manac of a single year .'" 

Mirabeau, generally satisfied with a happy turn 
of expression, never gave himself the trouble of 
studying a subject sufficiently to be able to discuss it, 
and patiently maintain the opinion he had advanced. 
He seized every thing with marvellous facility, but 
developed nothing. He wanted the practice of refu- 
tation. This great art, so indispensable to a politi- 
cal orator, was unknown to him. His opinion on the 
declaration surprised the assembly, because, when the 
question was previously discussed, he had argued in 
favour of its necessity. The most violent reproaches 
were addressed to him at this sudden change of senti- 
ment. ^^What manner of man is this," cried some 
one, "who uses his ascendency here to make the 
assembly adopt by turns both sides of a question ? 
Shall we condescend to be the sport of his perpe- 
tual tergiversation ?" Mirabeau had on this occasion 



142 RECOLLECTIONS 

SO many good reasons to urge in favor of his propo- 
sition, that he would no doubt have triumphed had he 
known how to make use of them, but he withdrew 
his motion at the instant when several deputies had 
come over to his way of thinking. The eternal bab- 
ble had then full range, and at last gave birth to the 
unfortunate declaration of the rights of man. I have 
now a complete refutation of it, clause by clause, 
from the pen of a great master who has exposed, in 
the clearest manner, the contradictions, absurdities 
and dangers of this programme of sedition, which 
proved alone sufficient to overthrow the constitution 
of which it formed part. It may be compared to a 
powder magazine placed under an edifice, which it 
might overthrow by an explosion produced by the 
smallest spark.* 

But if the assembly wasted much time in discuss- 
ions on the rights of man, this was amply compensa- 
ted in the nocturnal sitting of the 4th of August. 
Never was so much work done in so short a space of 
time. That which would have required twelve 
months of careful examination, was proposed, dis- 
cussed, put to the vote, and passed by general accla- 
mation. I know not how many laws were decreed; 
— the abolition of feudal rights, tithes, and provincial 
privileges — three questions embracing a whole system 
of jurisprudence and politics — were, with ten or 

* Vide Tactique des MssemhUes deliherantes, vol. 2. 



OF MIRABEAU. 143 

twelve others, disposed of in less time than the English 
parliament would decide upon the j&rst reading of any 
bill of consequence. The assembly resembled a 
dying man who had made his will in a hurry ; or to 
speak more plainly, each member gave away what 
did not belong to him, and prided himself upon his 
generosity at the expense of others. 

I was present at this extraordinary and unexpected 
scene, which occurred on a day when Sieyes, Mira- 
beau and several other leading deputies were absent. 

The proceedings commenced with a report on the 
excesses in the provinces, the burning of chateaus, and 
the bands of banditti who attacked the nobles and 
laid waste the country. The Dukes of Aiguillon 
and Noailles and several other members of the mi- 
nority of the nobles, after a vivid description of the 
disasters, declared that it was by a great act of gen- 
erosity alone that tranquillity and confidence could 
be restored ; that it was, therefore, time to forego 
odious privileges, and make the people feel the bene- 
fits of the revolution. It is impossible to describe 
the eifervescence which burst forth in the assembly 
at this declaration. There was no longer calmness 
or reflection. Each came forward with a sacrifice — 
each laid a fresh offering upon the altar of his country 
— each despoiled himself or despoiled others. There 
was no time taken for consideration, or for objection ; 
a sentimental contagion seemed to drag every heart 



144 RECOLLECTIONS 

into one general torrent. This renunciation of all 
privileges, this abandonment of so many rights bur- 
thensome to the people, these multiplied sacrifices, 
bore a stamp of magnanimity which covered with its 
splendour the indecent haste and precipitation, so ill- 
suited to legislators, with which they were made. 
On this night I saw good and brave deputies shed 
tears of joy on perceiving their work of political 
regeneration advance so rapidly, and on finding them- 
selves borne on the wings of enthusiasm even beyond 
their most sanguine hopes. It is true that all were 
not actuated by the same feeling. He who found 
himself ruined by a proposition unanimously agreed 
to, moved another from spite, and because he 
would not suifer alone. But the assembly were not 
in the secret of the principal movers of these mea- 
sures, and the latter took advantage of the general 
enthusiasm to carry their point. The renunciation 
of the provincial privileges was made by the depu- 
ties of the respective provinces. The deputies from 
Brittany, who had promised to maintain theirs, were 
much more embarrassed ; but they came forward in 
a body and declared that they would exert their 
utmost influence with their constituents to obtain a 
ratification of this abandonment of their privileges. 
This great and magnanimous measure was necessary 
to restore political unity in a kingdom formed by a 
successive aggregation of several smaller states, each 



OF MIRABEAU. 145 

of which had preserved certain antiquated rights and 
particular privileges which it was now necessary to 
destroy? in order to form a social body susceptible of 
receiving one general constitution. 

The following day brought reflection, and with it 
discontent. Mirabeau and Sieyes, each, however, 
from personal motives, very strongly reprobated the 
madness of such enthusiasm. " This is just the cha- 
racter of our Frenchmen," said the former, '^ they 
are three months disputing about syllables, and in a 
single night they overturn the whole venerable edi- 
fice of the monarchy." Sieyes was more annoyed 
at the abolition of tithes than at all the rest. It was 
hoped that in a subsequent sitting the most impru- 
dent clauses of these precipitate decrees might be 
amended ; but it was not easy to recall concessions 
which the people already looked upon as an indispu- 
table right. Sieyes made a speech full of force and 
logic, in which he showed that to abolish tithes 
without an indemnity, was spoliating the clergy to 
enrich the land owners ; for each having purchased 
his property with the burthen of tithes upon it, would 
on a sudden find himself richer by one tenth part, 
which would be a gratuitous present. This speech, 
impossible to be refuted, he concluded with the fa- 
mous saying : " They would be free, and know not 
how to be just!". ..The prejudice was so strong 
that even Sieyes was not listened to. He was looked 

T 



146 RECOLLECTIONS 

upon as an ecclesiastic unable to forego his personal 
interest, and who was paying the tribute of error to 
his gown. A little more, and he would have been 
hooted and hissed. I beheld him next day full of 
bitter resentment and profound indignation against 
the injustice and folly of the assembly, whom he never 
pardoned. He gave vent to his irritated feelings 
in a conversation with Mirabeau, when the latter 
said to him : " My dear abbe, you have let loose 
the bull and you now complain that he gores you!'^ 
These two men had always a very contemptible 
opinion of the national assembly. They were well 
qualified to appreciate its faults, yet neither of them 
granted it his esteem but on condition that his own 
opinion should always prevail. If either was ap- 
plauded, he discovered that the majority had good 
sense when left to their own judgment ; if either re- 
ceived marks of disapprobation, he then discovered 
that the assembly was composed of fools under the 
influence of a few seditious members. I have often 
seen Mirabeau graduate his opinion by this kind of 
thermometer ; and assuredly he was not the only one. 
The contempt of Sieyes might have been thought 
sincere, because he did not lay himself out for ap- 
plause, and always preserved a disdainful silence; 
but Mirabeau was infected with the speaking mania, 
and no one could for a moment believe that he was 
indifferent to applause. Both felt that a single 



OF MIRABEAU. 147 

legislative assembly was insufficient, because' there 
was nothing to controul it ; and the occurrences of the 
4th of August proved to what extent the contagion 
of enthusiasm and eloquence could influence its pro- 
ceedingSj and make it adopt the most absurd mea- 
sures. 

Far from having put a stop to violence and bri- 
gandage, the decrees of the 4th of August showed the 
people their strength, and convinced them that the 
most monstrous attacks upon the nobility would be 
overlooked, if they did not even elicit a recompense. 
I repeat, that what is granted through fear, never 
satisfies; and they whom you think your concessions 
will disarm, acquire tenfold confidence and audacity. 



148 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Soon after the discussion on the decrees of the 4th 
of August, constitutional questions were introduced, 
and one of the most important was that of the 
veto. It must not be supposed that this subject 
underwent a regular debate similar to those in the 
English house of commons. A list of speakers for 
and against was made out ; each appeared,- manu- 
script in hand, and read a dissertation unconnected 
with any thing that had been urged by preceding 
orators. I can imagine nothing more disgustingly 
tedious than this species of academic lecture, — the 
reading of those heavy pamphlets teeming with repe- 
titions and devoid of any continued chain of argu- 
ment. The form of a debate in which each speaks 
either to reply or attack, stimulates all the faculties 
and keeps up the attention; but those prepared 
speeches refuted objections which had never been 
urged, and did not refute those which had been ur- 
ged. The proceedings were always in the same stage ; 



OF MIR ABE AU. 149 

each speaker opened the question as if no other 
had preceded him, and nothing but the fanaticism 
attendant upon public events could have resisted the 
mortal ennui of these sittings. Mirabeau had deter- 
mined to support the absolute veto^ considered of 
vital importance to the monarchy ; but with regard 
to the manner of treating this question, he had 
placed himself under the tuition of the Marquis de 
Caseaux, author of an unintelligible book on the me- 
chanism of human societies, and of another entitled 
'' Simplicity of the Idea of a Constitution" which no 
one had been able to read or understand. I believe 
that, for once, Mirabeau was not sorry to proceed 
without us. He therefore concealed from us his 
alliance with his apocalyptic friend, and merely in-r 
formed us he was prepared and had made a few notes, 
which he should develope in the tribune. After 
being forced to listen to so many execrable speeches. 
Mirabeau's appearance in the tribune delighted every 
body; but scarcely had he begun when I recognized 
the. style and doctrines of Caseaux. The embarrassed 
constructions, the singularity of the words, the 
lengthy periods and the obscurity of the reasoning, 
soon cooled the attention of the assembly. It was at 
length made out that he supported the absolute veto, 
and this excited much disapprobation. Mirabeau, 
who had scarcely looked at this trash before he left 
home, threw himself immediately into digressions, 



150 RECOLLECTIONS 

inveighed against despotism, and by some smart 
things, which he had always at command, obtained 
the applause of the galleries ; but the moment he 
reverted to his fatal manuscript, the tumult again com- 
menced, and he had much difficulty in getting to the 
end of his speech, although on such occasions his 
courage never deserted him. By supporting the 
absolute veto, Mirabeau gave great offence to the 
popular party ; but his speech was so obscure, that 
the galleries nCver found out what side of the ques- 
tion he had taken, and the Palais Royal, who were 
in a frenzy against the supporters of the absolute veto, 
did not cease to consider Mirabeau as one of its most 
zealous opponents. That which would have de- 
stroyed the popularity of any other, seemed to have 
no power over his. The cote gauche thought that 
he had affected obscurity on this occasion in order to 
be able to turn to any side of the question ; so that 
the nonsense of Caseaux was imputed to a profound 
politician, and pure machiavelism was traced in every 
part of a writing which no one could understand. I 
never saw Mirabeau out of countenance but this 
once. He confessed to me that as he proceeded with 
the manuscript, which he had not before read, he 
felt himself in a cold perspiration ; and that he had 
omitted one half of it without being able to substitute 
any thing in its stead, having, in his over confidence 
in Caseaux, neglected to study the subject. We cor- 



OF MIRABEAU. 151 

reeled this speech a little before we published it in 
the Cuurrier de Provence; but the original fantastic 
style and obscurity could not be entirely effaced. It 
is thus the most important matters in legislation were 
treated j ex ungue leonem. This was tlie first con- 
stitutional question in which the people took a strong 
interest; and it may be readily supposed that it was 
a question which they little understood. The veto, 
in their eyes, assumed every possible form — it was a 
monster that would devour them all. I shall never 
forget that in going to Paris with Mirabeau, either 
on that day or the next, there were many people 
congregated on the outside of Madame le Jay's shop, 
waiting for him. They ran to him and conjured him, 
with tears in their eyes, not to suffer the king to have 
the absolute veto. ^^ Monsieur le Comte, you are 
the father of the people; you must save us, you 
must defend us against those who want to deliver us 
up to despotism. If the king is to have the veto, 
there will be no further occasion for a national as- 
sembly ; all will be lost and we shall be slaves !" A 
thousand such absurdities were uttered, and all pro- 
ceeded from the most earnest dread of a thing they 
had not the slightest idea of. On these occasions 
Mirabeau always displayed great dignity and con- 
descension; he managed to appease them with vague 
answers, and dismissed them with a politeness some- 
what patrician. 



152 RECOLLECTIONS 

Mirabeau did not vote upon the question, and 
that is the reason why he was not upon the list, 
taken to the Palais Royal, of those who had support- 
ed the absolute veto. Surely this conduct was pu- 
sillanimous, but he covered it with the mask of his 
soi-disant contempt for the assembly. The proceed- 
ings on this question proved the absurdity of voting 
separately upon constitutional laws ; for it is evident 
that they must be compared with each other to try 
whether they perfectly coincide. The law which 
might be very good when combined with some 
other, might produce a very bad effect if taken 
alone. Nothing but presumption and inexperience 
could have induced the national assembly to proceed 
in any other way, and daily issue unconnected con- 
stitutional decrees, without having previously deter- 
mined upon the plan of a constitution, so as to have 
a whole before them. In the veto, for instance ; — 
before they decided upon the question, they should 
have determined whether the legislation were to 
consist of two chambers or of only one. The settle- 
ment of the latter point was an indispensable prelim- 
inary; for if the legislature were not divided, the 
absolute veto became positively necessary to prevent 
the single chamber from usurping the supreme 
power. At the same time, the king would have 
been too weak to exercise the absolute veto against 
the strong and unanimous wish of the national a«sem- 



OF MIRABEAU. 153 

bly. It would not be good policy in a sovereign, 
under such circumstances, to oppose the wish of the 
whole nation. If the legislature were divided into 
two sections, then the absolute veto would become 
less necessary, because there was not even a proba- 
bility that the two sections would go hand in hand 
upon every question. One might, therefore, oppose 
the other. Thus the decision of one question de- 
pending upon another, both ought to be considered 
in coming to a conclusion. The greatest fault the 
assembly committed, was to work upon detached 
parts ; for thus it is that an irregular edifice was con- 
structed without proportion or correctness. Some 
parts were too strong, others too weak. There 
were incoherent masses which could not sustain the 
slightest shock, a gigantic elevation, and foundations 
which gave way under the weight of the fabric. 
But these defects originated in an extreme ambition 
to shine, and in an eager anxiety, in making a motion, 
to anticipate that of some other member. There 
was nothing concerted, nothing prepared. Each de- 
lighted in pilfering the propositions of another, in 
smuggling in an article out of its place, and in sur- 
prising the assembly by something unexpected. A 
constitution committee had been appointed, but this 
committee, a prey to jealousy and quarrels, could 
come to no understanding, nor direct their labours 
to a common object. It was a miniature likeness of 
u ■ 



154 RECOLLECTIONS 

the assembly ; composed of the same elements^ the 
same prejudices, the same desire of shining exclu- 
sively and the same struggle of self-love. Each, in 
short, took upon himself to introduce matters accord- 
ing to his own judgment, and often for no earthly 
reason than to be beforehand with the others. Study 
and meditation were foreign to the habits of the as- 
sembly ; its decrees were passed almost at the sword's 
point, and the most fiery passions had neither truce 
nor interval. After having overthrown every thing 
that existed, all must be reconstructed at once ; and 
so high an opinion had the assembly of their own 
powers, that they would willingly have undertaken 
to frame a code for all nations. Historians will say 
enough about the misfortunes of the revolution, but 
it would be not less essential to denounce the primi- 
tive faults which led to these misfortunes ; to go still 
further back, — the composition of the assembly 
ought to be examined, and particularly the circum- 
stances in which originated the mistrust, the struggle 
between the orders, the victory of the commons and 
the degradation of the royal authority. 

The most leading trait in the French character is 
self-vanity. Each member of the assembly thought 
himself equal to any undertaking. Never were 
seen so many men congregated together, who fancied 
themselves legislators, capable of repairing the faults 
of the past, finding a remedy for all the errors of the 



OF MIRABEAU. 155 

human mind, and securing the happiness of future 
generations. Doubt of their own powers never once 
found its way into their bosoms, and infallibility 
always presided over their decisions. In vain did a 
strong minority accuse them, and protest against 
their measures ; the more they were attacked, the 
more were they satisfied with their own transcendent 
wisdom. When the king presumed to transmit to 
them some mild remonstrances upon the decrees of 
the 4th of August and the declaration of rights, they 
were surprised that ministers should dare to criticise 
their proceedings, and M. Necker, who was the au- 
thor of the criticisms, began from that moment to 
lose his influence among them. 

I have been able to compare the English and 
French of the same rank in life, and I have attended 
assiduously the sittings of the English parliament and 
those of the national assembly. There is no point 
of opposition in the character of the two nations 
more striking than the reserve, approaching timidity, 
of the Englishman, and the confidence in himself 
displayed by the Frenchman. I often used to think 
that if a hundred persons indiscriminately were stop- 
ped in the streets of London, and the same number 
in the streets of Paris, and a proposal made to each 
individual to undertake the government of his coun- 
try, ninety-nine would accept the oifer at Paris and 
ninety-nine refuse it in London. 



156 RECOLLECTIONS 

Few of the speeches made in the assembly were 
written by the parties who uttered them. A French- 
man made no scruple of using the composition of 
another, and acquiring honour by a species of public 
imposture. No Englishman of character would con- 
sent to play such a part. A Frenchman would put 
himself forward and make any motion suggested to 
him, without once troubling himself about the conse- 
quences; whilst an Englishman would be afraid of 
exposing himself, if he had not sufficiently studied his 
subject to be able to answer every reasonable objec- 
tion, and support the opinion he had advanced. A 
Frenchman affirms upon very light grounds ; an 
assertion costs him nothing ;— an Englishman is in no 
haste to believe, and before he publicly advances a 
fact, he traces it to its source, weighs his authorities, 
and makes himself master of particulars. A French- 
man believes that with a little wit he can stem a tor- 
rent of difficulties. He is ready to undertake things 
the most foreign to his habits and studies, and it was 
thus that Mirabeau got himself appointed reporter to 
the committee of mines, without having the slightest 
knowledge concerning mines. An Englishman would 
expose himself to eternal ridicule if he dared to 
invade a department of which he knew nothing ; 
and he is more disposed to refuse undertaking that 
which he is able to perform, than to be ambitious of 
doing what he knows to be beyond his powers. The 



OF MIRABEAU. 157 

Frenchman believes that wit supplies the place of 
every thing ; the Englishman is persuaded that no- 
thing can be properly done without both knowledge 
and practice. A French gentleman being asked if 
he could play upon the harpsichord, replied, "I 
do not know, for I never tried ; but I will go and 
see." Now this is badinage, but make it serious ; — 
for harpsichord substitute government, and for music 
legislation, and, instead of one French gentleman you 
would find twelve hundred. 

Romilly had written a very interesting work upon 
the regulations observed in the English house of com- 
mons. These regulations are the fruit of long and 
closely reasoned experience ; and the more they are 
examined, the more worthy are they found of admi- 
ration. They are rigorously enforced in an assembly 
extremely jealous of innovation ; and as they are not 
written, it required much pains and labour to collect 
them. This little code indicated the best manner of 
putting questions, preparing motions, discussing 
them, telling the votes, appointing committees, — of 
carrying on, in short, all the proceedings of a political 
assembly. At the commencement of the meeting of 
the states-general, I translated this work. Mirabeau 
presented it, and deposited it upon the bureau of the 
commons, at the time when it was in contemplation to 
draw up a set of regulations for the national assembly. 
"We are not English, and we want nothing English !" 



158 RECOLLECTIONS 

was the reply. This translation of Romilly's work, 
although printed, was not taken the least notice of; 
nor did any member ever condescend to inquire how 
matters were conducted in so celebrated an assembly 
as the British parliament. The national vanity was 
wounded at the idea of borrowing the wisdom of any 
other people, and they preferred maintaining their 
own defective and dangerous mode of conducting 
their proceedings, of which the sitting of the 4th of 
August was a painful illustration. 

When Brissot talked about constitution, his fami- 
liar phrase was, ^^That is what lost England." 
Sieyes, Dupont, Condorcet, and many others with 
whom I was acquainted, were precisely of the same 
way of thinking. " How !'' once replied Duroverai, 
feigning astonishment, "is England lost?" when did 
you receive the news, and in what latitude was she 
lost?" The laugh was against Brissot ; and Mira- 
beau, who was then writing one of his speeches 
against Mounier, attributed to the latter Brissot's 
stupid saying, in order to have the pleasure of ma- 
king him the object of Duroverai's bon mot. Mou- 
nier complained of this in his first pamphlet, wherein 
he points out Mirabeau's mistatements relative to a 
sitting of which he professed to give a faithful account. 



OF MIRABEAU. 159 



CHAPTER IX. 



I HAVE not many recollections of the month of Sep- 
tember. During that period I met at Mirabeau's 
two men of very different characters. The first was 
Camille Desmoulins, who signed several of his writings 
as the attorney- general of the lantern. It must not, 
however, be imagined that he excited the people to 
use the lantern posts in the stead of gallows, an 
abomination attributed to him by M. Bertrand de 
Molleville ; — quite the reverse, he pointed out the 
danger and injustice of such summary executions, but 
in a tone of lightness and badinage by no means in 
keeping with so serious a subject. Camille appeared 
to me what is called a good fellow ; of rather exag- 
gerated feelings, devoid of reflection or judgment, 
as ignorant as he was unthinking, not deficient in wit, 
but in politics possessing not even the first elements 
of reason. Walking with him one day, I gave him 
some explanations on the constitution of England, of 
which he had been talking with the most profound 



160 RECOLLECTIONS 

ignorance of the subject. Three years afterwards, 
Camille, who had become a great man, by means of 
his jacobinism and his intimacy with Robespierre, 
and had cultivated his talents, wrote a work, in which, 
giving an account of his own life since the beginning 
of the revolution, he condescended, en passant, to 
give me a kindly recollection by representing me as 
an emissary of Pitt placed near Mirabeau to mislead 
him, and as preaching the English constitution at 
Versailles. I never read this work, but have been 
told that it was clever, Camille being one of those 
whom circumstances have led to acquire talents. 

The other person whom I met at Mirabeau's was 
La Clos, the author of the Liaisons Dangereuses, 
This individual, belonging to the household of the 
Duke of Orleans, was witty though sombre, taciturn 
and reserved'; with the face and look of a conspirator, 
he was so cold and distant, that although I met him 
several times, I scarcely ever spoke to him. I knew 
not his object in visiting Mirabeau. The events of 
the 5th and 6th of July have been attributed to the 
Duke of Orleans, and Mirabeau was implicated in 
the conspiracy. The national assembly decreed 
that there was no ground of accusation against either. 
But the acquittal of the assembly is not the verdict 
of history, and many doubts require still to be solved 
before a correct judgment can be formed. Notwith- 
standing my intimacy with Mirabeau at this period, 



OF MIRABEAU. 161 

he never let me into the secret of his having formed 
any connection with the Duke of Orleans. If then 
such a fact be true, I am not aware of it. In my 
recollections of the most minute circumstances, 
which could not fail to betray a man so confiding and 
imprudent as Mirabeau, I find not the slightest 
ground for supposing him an accomplice in the pro- 
ject against the court. It is true, nevertheless, that 
his intimacy with La Clos might indicate some inten- 
tion on the part of the duke to negotiate with him 
for his services. Mirabeau sometimes visited Mon- 
trouge, and once or twice, I believe, met the duke 
there ; but it cannot be inferred from this that they 
conspired together. I remember hearing him speak 
somewhat favourably of this prince, that is to say of 
his natural talents ; for in morals he said that nothing 
must be imputed to the duke, who had lost his taste, 
and could not therefore distinguish good from evil. 
About the same time, Mirabeau said to Duroverai 
and me, ^^I am quite astonished at finding myself a 
philosopher, because I was born to be an adventurer. 
But, who knows? They are going to tear the king- 
dom to pieces; I have some interest in Provence . . . ." 
Duroverai interrupted him with a laugh. " Ah ! he 
already thinks himself Count of Provence." — 
^^Well," replied Mirabeau, /^ many have risen from 
smaller beginnings." All this was but the result of 

V 



162 RECOLLECTIONS 

high animal spirits, and his fervent imagination anti" 
cipated nothing but ruin and overthrow. 

The only cireumstance I know to his disadvantage, 
was his preparing a work which he concealed from 
us. When the assembly quitted Versailles, to meet 
at Paris, Duroverai and I having called at Mira- 
beau's, who was already gone, to collect some papers 
which concerned us jointly, le Jay arrived in a trav- 
elling dress, and had a van at the door. He seemed 
much agitated, and had some difficulty in making us 
comprehend the cause. He had been somewhere to 
fetch the edition of a book which had been printed 
clandestinely, ought to have arrived a week sooner, 
and which he was now afraid of taking to Paris. 
" What edition ? What book ? What is it about?" 
— " Why," replied le Jay, ^^ it is the book against 
royalty." — " Against royalty, pray bring us a copy." 
It was a small volume, with a preface by Mirabeau, 
and the name of the author. I do not remember 
the precise title, but I think it was '^ On Royalty,^ 
extracted from MiltonP It was an abridgement or 
translation from Milton. Detached passages had 
been united, and a complete body of doctrine formed 
from the republican writings of the great English 
poet. I recollect seeing Mirabeau occupied about 
this translation with his friend Servan, governor of 
the pages, who, like all the inhabitants of Versailles, 



OF MIRABEAU. 163 

•was hostile to the court. Servan was afterwards 
minister of war. After the events of the 5th and 
6th of October, such a publication by a member of 
the national assembly was not only a libel, but an act 
of high treason. We were the more annoyed at 
this conduct, because the first suspicions of Mira- 
beau's intimate acquaintances would have fallen 
upon us, as being naturally inclined to republican- 
ism, and being, moreover, familiar with the English 
language. ^ But independently of our own feelings, 
Mirabeau's situation was calculated to alarm us dread- 
fully. Duroverai put le Jay into such a fright that 
he already fancied himself in the Chatelet or La 
Tournelle. He consented to every thing we pro- 
posed, and we brought the whole edition into the 
house, and burned it the same day. Le Jay saved 
about a dozen copies. This expedition over, he re- 
turned to Paris, and gave an account to his wife of 
the dangers he had incurred, together with the man- 
ner in which we had got him out of the scrape. 
Madame le Jay, who had placed great dependence 
upon this libel, fell upon the poor husband, called 
him a fool, and made him feel at the same time 
her double superiority in strength and intelligence. 
She next went to Mirabeau, and denounced Durov- 
erai ; but Mirabeau had too much sense not to per- 
ceive that the book would have proved his ruin, had 
it been published. All he wanted v/as to keep it in 



164 RECOLLECTIONS 

reserve against a future favourable opportunity ; but 
he had behaved too ill in the business to dare to re- 
proach us with the loss of a few thousand francs, 
I confess that on reflecting since upon this affair, the 
time at which it occurred — the delay of the edition, 
and the week earlier when it ought to have arrived — 
le Jay's journey to fetch it, and the secrecy which he 
was enjoined to preserve — I am sometimes tempted 
to think that the work w^as associated with some im- 
portant events, and that Mirabeau was iw the secret 
of the occurrences of the 5th and 6th of October. 
But on the other hand, I know that this compilation 
was begun long before, and that Mirabeau's rage for 
publishing was so great that it often got the better of 
all prudential considerations. The best conclusion 
at which I can arrive, after deliberately weighing 
every circumstance, is that, taking it for granted 
that the insurrection of Versailles was conducted by 
the Duke of Orleans, La Clos was too able a tactician 
to place the whole affair at Mirabeau's discretion, 
but had engaged him conditionally with only a partial 
confidence, and left a wide loop-hole to creep out at. 
It is impossible not to think that there was some con- 
nexion between them. <^^ Instead of a glass of brandy, 
a bottle was given." This is the figure by which 
Mirabeau explained the movement of Paris, upon 
Versailles. I presume that if the king had fled, 
Mirabeau v^ould have proclaimed the duke of Or- 



OF MIRABEAU. 165 

kans lieutenant-general of the kingdom, and would 
have become his prime minister. Such a scheme 
might easily find place in a brain like Mirabeau's, 
and his subsequent anger against the Duke of Orleans 
might lead to the idea that he had been deceived in 
his expectations. M. de Lafayette is perhaps ac- 
quainted with the secret of these events, originating, 
perhaps, in the spontaneous rising of the people, ex- 
cited by a dread of famine which had, for the time 
being, produced a real famine. 

I w^as at Versailles, and saw part of what passed. 
But I know nothing in particular, neither did I see 
any thing that could characterise either a settled 
plan or a conspiracy. I can even say that when the 
event occurred, it was not explained in the same 
manner as it has since been. The people attributed 
the dearth to the aristocracy. The aristocrats, they 
said, destroyed the corn before it reached maturity, 
paid the bakers not to work, suspended trade, and 
threw the flour into the rivers ; — in short, there was 
no absurdity too gross to appear improbable. The 
popular journals did not cease to circulate the gross- 
est falsehoods. The arrival of a new regiment at 
Versailles had renewed the public alarm. The fete 
which had been given at the palace to the ojficers, 
was inconceivably imprudent. It could not be term- 
ed a conspiracy, because people do not conspire at 
• a public banquet of five hundred persons ; but seve- 



166 RECOLLECTIONS 

ral anti-popular songs were sung, the national cockade 
insulted, the infant dauphin led about, and the 
king and queen, yielding to the enjoyment of these 
testimonies of affection, increased, by their presence, 
the general enthusiasm. At any other period, it 
would not have been imputed as a crime, that the 
young officers of the king's guard should become 
animated at a banquet, and display their affection 
for the royal family. The cloud which hung over 
this unhappy family, and the misfortunes which 
threatened them, were a fresh stimulus to the feelings 
of chivalrous honour which pervaded the bosoms of 
these young nobles, devoted, by profession, to the 
defence of their sovereign. But when the particu- 
lars of this banquet were made public, with every 
possible exaggeration, it was construed into an in- 
tention of rendering the revolution odious, and of 
forming a fresh league for the king's defence, and 
was therefore denounced in the assembly as evidence 
of a court conspiracy against the people. The cote 
droit was furious, and inveighed against the calumny. 
Mirabeau, whom Servan had excited, threw himself 
into the midst of the tumult, and declared that he 
was ready to name the principal author in the im- 
pious fete, provided it were decreed beforehand 
that the king's person was sacred and inviolable. 
This single expression, which cast a direct accusa- 
tion upon the queen, threw the cote droit into con- ' 



OF MIRABEAU. 167 

sternation, and made the democrats themselves fear 
that they had gone too far. 

If, on this occasion, Mirabeau had adopted the 
most generous line of policy, and opposed the popu- 
lar rage, it would have been easy to give another 
colour to this circumstance, and place those testimo- 
nies of affection for the king in a favourable point of 
view. He might have openly complained of its being 
supposed that the entire assembly did not participate 
in these marks of affection, and have proposed a sim- 
ilar fete, at which the king should appear surrounded 
by all the representatives of France. He might, at 
the same time, have asked for the removal of the 
regiment of Flanders, whose presence was unneces- 
sary. But it must be admitted that this assembly, 
though very prodigal of their expressions of attach- 
ment to the king, had never yet shown it by any 
tangible act. 

The dearth which kept the people in a state of 
effervescence, and the banquet scene at the chateau 
appeared, at the time, sufficient to account for the 
insurrection at Paris, and the invasion at Versailles. 

It was not till afterwards that a plot was imagined 
and attributed to the duke of Orleans. This suspi- 
cion acquired consistency when it was known that 
M. de Lafayette had insisted upon the duke leaving 
Paris and proceeding to England. The secret of 
this intrigue has never transpired, but I recollect that 



168 RECOLLECTIONS 

two years after, in a confidential conversation with 
M. de Talleyrand, bishop of Autun, that prelate ut- 
tered these remarkable words : " The Duke of Or- 
leans is the slop-pail into which is thrown all the 
filth of the revolution /" 

The following, so far as my recollection serves me^ 
was Mirabeau's conduct during these two days. On 
the fifth, we dined with M. Servan, in the palace 
called les Petites-Ecuries, in which, as governor of 
the pages, he had apartments. We could see from 
the windows opening upon the great square, the ar- 
rival of the Parisian multitudes, including the pois- 
sardes or fish women, and the market porters. This 
crowd demanded nothing but bread. The regiment 
of Flanders and the national guard were drawn up 
outside the external enclosure of the chateau. The 
king's guards, both cavalry and infantry, were formed 
within the great and lesser courts. There was a 
tumultuous movement among the crowd, the cause 
of which we could not well distinguish. Mirabeau 
was not long with us ; nay, I have an idea that he 
did not stay to dinner. Though the crowd was 
great, and there was no knowing what might happen, 
we walked about every where. We saw the king's 
carriages go off through unfrequented streets, and 
thought they were conveying the royal family to a 
place of safety. Tired of wandering, I went to the 
assembly at about eight o'clock in the evening. The 



OF MIRABEAU. 169 

hall presented a curious spectacle. It had been 
invaded by the people from Paris, and was quite full 
of them. The galleries were crowded with women 
and men armed with halberts, bludgeons and pikes. 
The sitting was suspended, but a message came from 
the king, calling upon the president to resume it, 
and send a deputation to the chateau. I went to 
Mirabeau, whom I found in bed, although it was not 
eleven o'clock. He rose, and we returned to the 
assembly. When we arrived, the president was ex- 
hausting his strength in a fruitless endeavour to obtain 
silence. Mirabeau immediately raised his voice, and 
called upon the president to make the assembly 
respected, and order the strangers in the hall to quit 
the members' benches, which they had invaded. 
It required all Mirabeau's popularity to succeed. 
By degrees the populace withdrew, and the deputies 
began to discuss some clauses of the penal code. In 
the gallery in which I was sitting, there was a pois- 
sarde who assumed superior authority, and directed 
the motions of about a hundred women, awaiting her 
orders to make a noise or be silent. She called 
familiarly to the deputies, and said, '^ Who is speak- 
ing yonder? Make that babbler hold his tongue! 
We do not want his speechifying ; we want bread ! 
Let our little mother Mirabeau speak ; we should 
like to hear him!" Our little mother Mirabeau be- 
came the cry of the whole band ; but Mirabeau was 
w 



170 RECOLLECTIONS 

not a man to show off on such occasions, and his pop- 
ularity never made him lose sight of his dignity. 

About midnight, an aide-de-camp announced the 
arrival of M. de Lafayette, at the head of the national 
guard of Paris, and every one now thought himself 
safe. The soldiers of the national gUard had re- 
newed their oath of fidelity to the law and the king, 
and the multitude, on being made acquainted with 
the king's assurances, became calmer. About two 
in the morning, we left the assembly, which was still 
sitting. On awaking some hours after, a confused 
account was given me of what had occurred ; of the 
invasion of the chateau, and the disarming of the 
guards. These events were then attributed to mis- 
understandings, imprudences and chance quarrels. 
Mirabeau went early to the assembly, and I was in- 
formed that he opposed a compliance with the king's 
desire of removing the assembly to the chateau, as 
the only means of keeping the multitude in cheek. 
The pretended dignity, which he put forward as a 
reason for sending only a deputation, certainly ap- 
peared suspicious. Was that a time to consult eti- 
quette ? Was there a duty more imperious than that 
of forming a living rampart around the monarch in 
danger? Certain it is, that had a conspiracy against 
the king really existed, and Mirabeau been an ac- 
complice, he could not have behaved otherwise than 
he did. But, on the other hand, how happened it. 



OF MIRABEAU. 171 

that the assembly, who surely were not in the plot, 
all so instantly concurred in bis opinion ? This is a 
reason for believing that he had only taken advan- 
tage of the general feeling, and that his motion was 
not premeditated. There was, at this time, a marked 
opposition between the court and the national assem- 
bly, because the king had given but a half sanction 
to the declaration of the rights of man, and to the 
explanatory decrees of the 4th of August. The as- 
sembly was mean enough, on this occasion, to take 
advantage of the disorder, and call upon the king 
for his full and unqualified consent ; just as if his 
refusal had been one of the causes of the insurrec- 
tion. Mounier presided on that day ;— Mirabeau 
was very jealous of him, and had, perhaps, no other 
motive, even without being conscious of it, than a 
desire to get the better of Mounier, and injure him, 
by representing his opinions as derogatory from the 
national dignity. I did not, at the time, make these 
reflections, because, such was the rapidity of 
events, that one impression was soon effaced by 
another. 

Several deputies, against whom the fury of the 
populace had been excited, took to flight ; and hav- 
ing no hope from a revolution eff'ected by such means, 
they dared not return to Paris, but abandoned their 
post. Lally-Tolendal and Mounier were among the 
number. There were fifty-five or fifty-six. This 



172 RECOLLECTIONS 

desertion was not justifiable. But, on taking into 
consideration the violence they had suffered, it would 
be but fair, prior to accusing them of cowardice, that 
we should ourselves have suffered, for a time, the 
same outrages. I never met Mounier but once, and 
I was present at a conversation between him and 
Mirabeau, at the house of a painter. Mounier's 
account of this conversation is quite correct. 



OF MIRABEAU. 173 



CHAPTER X. 



I DID not before allude to Mirabeau's celebrated 
speech on the national bankruptcy, because I wished, 
under the same head, to add a few further observa- 
tions. 

Mirabeau was not well acquainted with the subject, 
although he had published several papers on it, such 
as ^^ The Bank of St Charles,^^ " The Denuncia- 
tion of Stock-jobbing,'^^ &c. But he had two able 
coadjutors in Panchaud and Claviere, the former of 
whom said, that Mirabeau was the first man in the 
world to speak on a question he knew nothing about. 
A ready conception, and the happiest expressions 
enabled him easily to lead artificial minds astray. 
When, from the effects of the revolution, the public 
revenue was considerably diminished, and the taxes 
of scarcely any value, M. Necker, unable to keep in 
motion an immense machine, whose moving power 
was almost annihilated, proposed to the assembly a 
loan, to which he had endeavoured to give a very 



174 RECOLLECTIONS 

seductive form. He wanted, for this purpose, to 
make use of the credit of the caisse d^escompte. 
Claviere, who, I believe, had some feeling of perso- 
nal hostility towards the company of the caisse d^es- 
compte, engaged Mirabeau to oppose the measure. 
The assembly attempted to organise the loan, and 
proceeded with as little intelligence as on many other 
occasions. The consequence was, that the measure 
was unsuccessful, and the national credit, about which 
so much had been said, became worse than useless. 
M. Necker was soon after forced to present another 
project, a species of patriotic loan, somewhat resem- 
bling an income tax. This time, Mirabeau deter- 
mined to support the minister, to whom, however, 
he was personally hostile. There had been no inter- 
course between them ; for the intimacy which Du- 
roverai and Mallouet had attempted to bring about, 
had failed. Some persons suspected, that Mira- 
beau's support was given, in order to fix upon Necker 
the responsibility of the certain failure of the plan. 
Several stupid members, who thought that the assem- 
bly would be wanting in dignity, if it adopted min- 
isterial measures without altering something in them, 
proposed several modifications. Mirabeau was of 
opinion, that the plan required no alteration, and 
ergerly pressed the assembly to adopt it as it was. 
His principal argument was, the ill success of the 
last project of loan, which the friends of the minister 



OF MIRABEAU. 175 

attributed to the assembly, who, by ill-judged 
modifications; had altered its nature. Thence pro- 
ceeding to remark upon the dangerous state of pub- 
lic credit, and the failure of the revenue, he repre- 
sented a national bankruptcy, as the probable conse- 
quence of the rejection of this plan. The force with 
which he presented so commonplace a subject, was 
miraculous ; he elevated it to sublimity. Those who 
heard this speech will never forget it; it excited 
every gradation of terror, and a devouring gulph, 
with the groans of the victims it swallowed, of which 
the orator gave a very appalling description, seemed 
pictured to the senses of the audience. 

The triumph was complete ; not an attempt was 
made to reply. The assembly were subjugated by 
that power of a superior and energetic mind, which 
acts upon the multitude, as if it were only a single 
individual, and the project was adopted without a 
dissenting voice. From that day, Mirabeau was 
considered as a being superior to other men. He 
had no rival. There were, indeed, other orators, 
but he alone was eloquent ; and this impression was 
stronger, because, in his speech on this question, he 
was obliged to depend entirely upon his own resour- 
ces ; for it was an unexpected reply, and could not, 
therefore, have been prepared.* 

* This^s the passage in Mirabeau's reply, to which M. Du- 



176 RECOLLECTIONS 

Mole, the celebrated actor at the Theatre Fran- 
pais, was present. The force and dramatic eifect of 
Mirabeau's eloquence, and the sublimity of his voice, 
had made a deep impression upon this distinguished 
comedian, who, with visible emotion, approached 

mont alludes : " Oh ! if less solemn declarations did not insure 
our respect for public faith, and our horror of the infamous word 
bankruptcy, 1 would search into the secret motives, unknown, 
perhaps, to ourselves, which make us draw back at the very 
instant we are called upon to consummate a great sacrificej — 
inefficacious, it is true, unless it be sincere ; — and I would say 
to those who, from the fear of sacrifices and the dread of taxes, 
are, perhaps, familiarizing their minds with the idea of not 
keeping faith with the public creditor : — What is such a bank- 
ruptcy itself, but the most cruel, the most iniquitous, the most 
unequal, and the most ruinous of taxes ?— My friends, listen 
to a word-— a single word! — Two centuries of depredations and 
robbery have dug the gulph into which the kingdom is about 
to fall. This horrible gulph must be filled up ! But how ? 
There is but one way. Here is a list of rich men in France. 
Choose from among the richest, in order that you may sacrifice 
fewer citizens ; — but choose, at all events, for must not the 
smaller number perish to save the great mass of the people ? 
Well ! these two thousand rich men are possessed of sufficient 
wealth to make up the deficiency. Restore order to your finan- 
ces, peace and prosperity to the country; — strike, immolate your 
victims without pity ; precipitate them into the abyss, and it will 
close. . . What, do you draw back horror-struck, ye inconsistent, 
ye pusillanimous men ! Well, then, do you not perceive, &c. 
&c." — Note by the Genevese Editor. • 



OF MIRABEAU. 177 

the ouator to offer his compliments. ^' Ah I Monsieur 
le Comte,'' said he in a pathetic tone of voice, 
" what a speech! and with what an accent did you 
deliver it ! Yon have surely missed your vocation !" 
Mole smiled on perceiving the singularity of the 
compliment which his dramatic enthusiasm had led 
him to utter, but Mirabeau was much flattered by it. 
Some days after, in the beginning of October, the 
King being already at Paris, it was determined to 
press this ministerial measure by an address from the 
national assembly to the nation. Mirabeau was re- 
quested to write this address, and he transferred the 
task to me. I undertook it with more readiness, 
because I was still of opinion that a solemn address, 
supported by authority, might yet serve as a vehicle 
for important truths, I had no desire to palliate the 
excesses of the revolution, but wished, on the con- 
trary, to prove, in the strongest manner possible, 
that the nation would be lost if it were misled any 
longer by wrong notions of liberty, whose mask 
licentiousness had assumed to render her odious. 
This composition was not so rapid as the address to 
the king, because the subject was more complicated 
and delicate ; for great caution was requisite not to 
offend the assembly itself, whose ears were irritable 
as those of a despot, and who took umbrage at the 
most indirect reproach. I devoted three days to 
this work, which was well received, but produced 

X 



178 RECOLLECTIONS 

upon the nation just about as much effect as a sermon 
upon a congregation. Scarcely had it been applau- 
ded, when it was already forgotten. I found among 
my papers the original of this address almost in the 
same state as when I gave it to Mirabeau; there 
being only two or three slight alterations made by 
the committee appointed to draw it up.* 

Soon after this occurrence, Duroverai communi- 
cated to me a proposal made him by M. Delessert a 
banker of Paris, that we should accept a sum of mo- 
ney as a testimony of gratitude for the services we 
had rendered in supporting M. Necker's project; 
for our influence over Mirabeau was well known; 
and my contributions to several of his speeches, to- 
gether with the hand I had in framing the address 
to the nation, were at least suspected. M. Delessert 
spoke in the name of several bankers, and offered a 
hundred louis d'or as his share of the contribution. 
Duroverai had neither accepted nor refused, but 
said he would mention the matter to me. I was very 
angry that he had not immediately declined the offer 
of these gentlemen, in the strongest terms, as he 
certainly would have done had it preceded instead 
of following the service. We had not acted in the 
matter with any view to their advantage — they, 
therefore, owed us nothing ; and I could not but 

* Vide Appendix, No. 3, 



OF MIRABEAU. 179 

perceive a bribe in disguise, in this pretended 
<iisplay of gratitude. A gift which cannot be loudly 
avowed and publicly proclaimed — a gift, in short, 
that will not bear the light of day, stamps itself as 
illicit and conveys a pledge of venality. The simple 
suspicion of personal interest appeared to me so dis- 
graceful, that Duroverai had much difficulty in convin- 
cing me that there was no insult in M. Delessert's offer. 
The answer was dictated by these feelings ; — for it is 
clear that this was an attempt upon our delicacy, 
and not a very indirect one. I soon forgot the mat- 
ter, and never took the trouble to mention it to M. 
Delessert. 

When the assembly was transferred to Paris, and 
met at the archbishop's palace, I prevailed upon 
Mirabeau to move a vote of thanks to M. Bailly and 
M. de Lafayette, and I composed a speech for him 
in which I pointed out the difficulties which, amid 
these political hurricanes, they had to encounter as 
public men. As he had always been envious of their 
popularity, this proposal displeased him at first ; but 
I well knew that he would not resist the temptation 
of being thought the author of a motion, written in 
a style that flattered him. The maire and comman- 
dant of Paris were the more flattered at this, because 
it was unexpected, and I had the satisfaction of bring- 
ing together, at least for some days, men whose union 
appeared to me advantageous to the country. Jea- 



180 RECOLLECTIONS 

lousy, hatred, and malevolence were the plagues 
which seemed to have attached themselves to the 
principal actors in the revolution. Could the latter 
have been brought to act in concert, they would have 
imparted a uniform motion both to the assembly and 
to the "nation. But my hopes in this respect were 
the illusions of inexperience. No power but that of 
a government can suspend individual passions, and 
give them an impulsion towards a common object. 
In weak administrations, a thousand contending cur- 
rents are formed, and each candidate for public 
favour, desirous of feathering his own nest, hates his 
fellows because he considers them rivals, and they 
thus mutually weaken each other until, at length, 
they all fall under the domination of one. 

Lafayette was now in the meridian of his power. 
He was master of the chateau, and the national guard 
were wholly attached to him. But he bore his ho- 
nours meekly, his intentions were pure and his per- 
sonal character elicited general esteem. His house, 
under the direction of his virtuous and religious wife, 
was distinguished by that decorum of manners which 
the French nobles had too much neglected. I was 
invited by him to dinner to meet Mirabeau, M. de 
la Rochefoucauld, M. de Liancourt, and many others. 
I was in the full enjoyment of a reconciliation which 
I had brought about, without any one suspecting my 
share in the business. 



OF MIRABEAU. 181 

As far as I can remember, a scheme for bringing 
Mirabeau into office was talked of, about this period. 
There were conferences and negotiations on the sub- 
ject. M. Necker had almost agreed to it — the king 
was about to consent — but there was a sine qua non 
of Mirabeau's, which was that he should remain 
member of the assembly, without which he felt that 
his taking-office would prove his destruction without 
advantage to the public cause. A suspicion of this 
project seemed to exist in the assembly. Perhaps it 
arose from secret treachery, or may be, simple indis- 
cretion. Be that as it may, whilst the negotiation 
was still pending, Lameth, or Noailles, or Dupont, 
or some one of that party, moved that no member 
should accept an office in the executive, nor a king's 
minister sit in the assembly. Mirabeau opposed the 
motion in vain. Duroverai, I think, wrote a very 
powerful speech for him on this occasion. The votes 
were nearly equal, but the motion was carried by a 
feeble majority. An appeal to the usage in the En- 
glish parliament, instead of telling against the motion, 
was instrumental to its success. The least idea of 
imitation offended the pride of the innovators, who 
pretended to establish a monarchical form of govern- 
ment without preserving a single element of monar- 
chy. Mirabeau's exasperation may easily be ima- 
gined, when he found his ambitious hopes overthrown 
by this motion of the Lameths and their party. 



182 RECOLLECTIONS 

In the constitution-committee, Sieyes had made 
two proposals which were rejected, and which, ac- 
cording to custom, he had not taken the least trouble 
to get accepted. One was a/« civic inscription, to 
admit young men, with a certain degree of solemnity, 
into the body of active citizens. I liked this idea, 
not as a great legislative measure, but as a means of 
inspection and education for youth. I wrote a short 
speech upon it, which Mirabeau pronounced at the 
assembly, and the proposal was unanimously adopted. 
Sieyes was delighted at the humiliation of the com- 
mittee. He was much pleased with Mirabeau, and 
still more so with me. It was not a difficult matter 
for him to guess my share in the business; for, after 
the rejection of the proposal by the committee, he 
had mentioned it in a conversation at the house of 
the Bishop of Chartres, and I had expressed my 
opinion on the subject. 

The other proposal, which I likewise treated with 
the same success, has escaped my memory, but I shall 
find it in looking over the numbers of the Courrier 
de Provence. 

The question of qualifications for a deputy having 
been brought forward, Duroverai wrote a speech for 
Mirabeau, which tended to declare bankrupts ineli- 
gible to any public employment. This was one of 
the laws of Geneva, to prove the utility of which, 
Montesquieu had devoted a whole chapter. There 



OF MIRABEAU. 183 

are, however, some strong objections to the principle. 
A merchant may fail without being to blame, and it 
is hard to punish misfortune by a disgraceful exclu- 
sion. A bankrupt may be a man of overwhelming 
talent, and it would not be just to deprive the public 
of his services. Experience at Geneva, however, 
had shown that the advantages of this law more than 
counterbalanced its evils, and the authority of Mon- 
tesquieu, though not very powerful with the demo- 
cratic party, contributed, nevertheless, to the success 
of the motion. M. Reybaz sent a laughable letter 
on this subject to the Courrier de Provence.'^ 

I forgot to mention another law passed at Ver- 
sailles, after the king had gone to Paris, and suggested 
by Duroverai ; namely, the martial law. Insurrec- 
tions had become so frequent, that the duties of a 
municipal officer or a town-major were more difficult 
than when in the presence of a hostile army. In 
many places the troops, imbued with the revolution- 
ary spirit of the day, instead of supporting the au- 
thorities, had joined the people. The revolution 
existed in the army as in the nation. A handful of 
mutineers were sufficient to make the commandant of 
a citadel tremble. Every act of personal defence 
became a capital crime, and the clamours of the pop- 
ulace were more formidable than an enemy's battery. 

* Vide Appendix, No. 4. 



184 RECOLLECTIONS 

Mirabeau had long thought that this popular dicta- 
ture should be put down, and, if I mistake not, was 
the first to propose the martial law, which encoun- 
tered a violent opposition. It is remarkable that he 
again opposed the popular party, and yet his pop- 
ularity was not affected by it. Duroverai drew up 
the law upon the English model, and England was 
often, though improperly, quoted throughout this 
debate. There were at this period at Versailles, 
two English barristers with whom I was intimate. 
Duroverai, who had a superabundance of activity in 
the pursuit of his plan, requested that I would ask 
them to write a letter to Mirabeau, explaining mar- 
tial law as it existed in England. I told him that I 
was sure of not succeeding in such a demand ; I had 
good reasons for thinking so, and it was not until 
repeatedly urged by Duroverai, that I consented to 
make the application. I asked my English friends 
if they would answer a letter from Mirabeau, soli- 
citing information on the subject ; but I could obtain 
nothing from either. They would not expose them- 
selves to have their names mentioned, their letter 
shown, or to the suspicion of having, in any way, 
attempted to influence the deliberations of the as- 
sembly. 

I should not have mentioned this circumstance but 
to remark, that this reserve belongs to the national 
character of the English, and that the fear of appear- 



OF MIRABEAU. 185 

ing in a matter in which they had no concern — the 
suspicion of intrigue or officious interference, is a 
feeling as common among Englishmen, as the desire 
of taking a prominent part and interfering with every 
thing, is a universal feeling among Frenchmen. 



186 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XL 



I HAVE, in my head, a confusion of dates concerning 
the occurrences of November and December. It 
was in the former month, that Duroverai went to 
England. His absence, which was not to have ex- 
ceeded a week, lasted five or six. M. Seybaz, who, 
as I have already stated, undertook to supply his 
place in the Courrier de Provence, seldom attended 
the assembly, from which he resided at too great a 
distance, but took his materials from other journals, 
which were now becoming very numerous. The 
Moniteur was already begun, and in it was published 
every speech made in the assembly, whether good or 
bad. 

As great accuracy in dates is requisite for what 
follows, I fear I shall be unable to establish them from 
simple recollections. I must refer to documents, 
and shall, therefore, be unable to finish this chapter, 
until my return to London. 

During Duroverai's absence, Mirabeau called upon 



OF MIRABEAU. 187 

me one morning, and said, he had a most important 
communication to make. He began by representing 
in the blackest colours, the complete disorganization 
of the kingdom, expatiated on the impossibility of 
doing any good with the national assembly, as then 
constituted, and at length, drew from his portfolio a 
paper, in his own hand writing, of seven or eight 
pages. " Here,'' said he, " is a plan by which 
France may yet be saved, and her freedom secured ; 
for you know me too well, my friend, to suppose 
that I would co-operate, in any measure, of which 
liberty were not the basis. Read it through, without 
interruption. I will then talk to you about the 
means of execution, and you will perceive that they 
are commensurate with the greatness of the measure. 
I cannot, however, tell you all, or name the parties 
concerned. It is a secret of honour — a solemn 
engagement." 

I here have occasion to regret the imperfection of 
my memory, and the lapse of time which has effaced 
from my recollection most of the details of this pro- 
ject. It was founded upon the departure of the king, 
who could no longer bear his captivity at Paris. He 
was to escape to Metz, or some other strongly fortified 
city, garrisoned with troops and officers of well known 
fidelity. On his arrival thither, he was to appeal, by 
proclamation, to the body of the people. He was 
to remind the country of his benefactions, and de- 



188 RECOLLECTIONS 

nounce the crimes of the metropolis. He was to 
cancel the decrees of the national assembly, as being 
contrary to law, and founded upon a manifest usur- 
pation of power. He was next to dissolve the assem- 
bly itself, and order an immediate convocation of the 
bailliages to elect fresh deputies. He was, at the 
Same time, to order all the commandants to resume 
their authority, and the parliaments their functions, 
and to act in conjunction against the rebels. He was 
to summon the nobles to rally round him, for the de- 
fence of the monarch and his throne. Mirabeau was 
to remain at Paris, and watch the motions of the as- 
sembly. So soon as the royal proclamation should 
appear, all the cote-droit and the moderates of the 
cote-gauche were, if my memory serves me correctly, 
to vote that they should immediately follow the king, 
and separate from those who were of a contrary 
opinion. If Paris persevered in its disobedience, all 
communication with it was to be stopped, and it was 
to be reduced by famine. It was certain, that the 
clergy, who had been despoiled of their wealth by 
the national assembly, would employ all their reli- 
gious influence over the people, in furtherance of 
this plan , and the bishops were to meet, and protest, 
in the name of religion, against the sacrilegious usur- 
pations of the legislative body. — ^There were four or 
five pages in the same strain. The project appeared 
arranged with much art, and all its parts seemed so 



OF MIRABEAU. 189 

skilfully combined, as to be likely to work well in 
conjunction. 

I cannot describe my emotion, or rather my alarm, 
on reading this paper. After a few moments silence, 
I told Mirabeau that I saw, in this confidence, the 
strongest proof of his friendship for me ; that I had 
no observations to make, such projects being beyond 
my skill ; that I was not competent to decide upon 
the fate of the monarchy, nor to give an opinion 
upon the differences between the king and the as- 
sembly ; but that my resolution was taken, and I 
should quit Paris in two days. 

The tone of this conversation is strong in ray mem- 
ory. We spoke in a low voice, and very slowly, 
like men weighing the importance of each word, and 
who, to contain their internal agitation, compress every 
motion of the body, as if they feared a sudden and 
involuntary explosion. 

^^You are labouring under a misconception :" said 
Mirabeau, surprised at my determination; "you 
imagine this plan to be a signal of civil war. No 
such thing. You know not to what extent the nation 
are attached to their king, and how exclusively mon- 
archical we are. The instant the king is free, the 
assembly will be annihilated. With him the body is 
a colossus 5 but without him , a heap of sand. There 
will be, doubtless, on the part of the Palais Royal, 
some attempts hostile to the measure. If Lafayette 



190 RECOLLECTIONS 

should play the Washington, and put himself at the 
head of the national guard, he would deserve death, 
and his fate would be soon sealed.'^ — "As well as 
that of many others/' exclaimed I, ^'^ for assassination 
will take the place of massacre. I am ignorant of 
your means of execution, but I am sure they are m- 
dically bad, because the king has not energy enough 
to follow them up. He will make this plan miscarry 
like every other.'' — "You do not know the queen;" 
he replied, ^' she has prodigious strength of mind : 
she has the courage of a man." — "But have you 
seen her?" I inquired. " Have you been consulted 
with? Are you quite sure that full confidence is 
placed in you? Recollect with whom you are 
acting, what kind of men you are supporting. If 
you were at Metz, or in any other strong hold, and the 
first part of the project successful, be assured that 
you would be the first they would get rid of; 
for you have already made them fear you, and that 
they will never forgive. But let us forego personal 
considerations. Has not every thing yet attempted 
against the assembly proved favourable to it? Does 
it not command the the power of public opinion? 
Has it not paralyzed both the finances and the army? 
The king may establish himself upon the frontiers ; 
he may obtain assistance from the emperor; but is it 
in his character to become the conqueror of his sub- 
jects? And is it with Austrian soldiers that you 



OF MIRABEAU. 191 

would establish freedom ? Is it not madness to begin 
the regeneration of France, with the most deplorable 

of misfortunes ? " I recollect that, animated 

by this conversation, I was no longer upon my guard, 
and 1 raised my voice. After uttering something 
with great warmth, and in a very loud tone, Mira- 
beau and I were both surprised at perceiving, that 
the sound of a violin in the next room, from which 
we were separated only by a thin partition, had sud- 
denly ceased. We had before paid but little atten- 
tion to it, but its cessation struck us both simultane- 
ously. '^ We may be overheard," said Mirabeau, 
' ' let us go into another Toora . I had anticipated," he 
continued, as soon as we had changed our quarters, 
^^several of the objections you have urged. But I 
am certain that the court party are bent upon making 
the experiment, and I think my co-operation neces- 
sary to its success, and to direct it in favour of liberty, 
otherwise it will only lead to new errors, and to the 
total ruin of the country. If it does not succeed, 
the monarchy is lost." — " And how can any man of 
sense," said I, ^^ stake his life in such an infernal 
game ? You are irritated against the national assem- 
bly, on account of the decree which excluded you 
from the ministry, and you are unconsciously blinded 
by your resentment. If such a project had been 
formed by any one else, you would have considered it 
either the greatest of crimes, or the consummation of 



192 RECOLLECTIONS 

an act of the greatest madness. I agree with you, that 
the assembly is badly conducted ; but I am persuaded, 
that if seven or eight members only would unite, 
and act in concert, every thing would go right. If 
you have interest at court, which I very much doubt, 
you had better use it in the furtherance of what I 
now urge. All these half projects, these counter- 
revolutionary phantasies only tend to increase the 
general apprehension, and add to the alarms of the 
jacobins and the comite de surveillance. It is in the 
assembly alone that you have influence and power ; 
out of it you possess neither ; and if the court party 
have really the confidence in you, which you seem 
to think, you can serve them much better as a deputy 
than as a minister." 

This is all I can remember of a conversation which 
lasted two or three hours. My objections had their 
due weight, and by degrees, I obtained from him *a 
confession that he had proposed this plan on being 
sounded as to whether his services might be depend- 
ed upon, in the event of the king quitting Paris. 
I then pointed out to him, that which he had over- 
looked in the blindness of his anger against the assem- 
bly ; namely, that the court party had only assumed 
a hypothetical project ; that, not being in the confi- 
dence of the Tuileries, he had no certain data to 
proceed upon, and that there was a great difference 
between giving a plan, and belonging to the council 



OF MIRABEAU. 193 

who were to decide upon its adoption. This last 
consideration was decisive. He felt that he was em- 
ployed only in a subordinate capacity — for he was 
not even acquainted with the names of the principal 
parties to the project of the king's escape — and that 
he could not answer for the king's vigorous adoption 
of the plan with all its consequences. He therefore 
gave me his word of honour that he would withdraw 
from it, and urge Monsieur,^ who had induced him 
to join in it, to forego his purpose and advise the 
court party to turn their views towards the national 
assembly. 

Two or three days after, Mirabeau informed me 
that the court party, as well as he, had abandoned 
the plan ; that the king was irresolute and only seem- 
ed determined upon attempting his evasion when 
wincing under some recent insult of the national as- 
sembly, but thought no more of it the moment they 
let him alone. There was a new scheme to form a 
confederation among the moderates, and Mirabeau's 
services were considered indispensable to its success. 
Dining, a few days after, at the Bishop of Chartres', 
Brissot, who was there, said to me with an air of 
triumph, "Well, you are always laughing at our 
comite de surveillance and at our 3fetection of con- 
spiracies ; but this time you will not laugh. We 

* Afterwards Louis XVIII. 



194 RECOLLECTIONS 

have the clue to a plot, a list of the highest names 
in the kingdom, as conspirators, and strong evidence 
to back the charge. I cannot tell you more at pre- 
sent, but to-morrow, when the denunciation is made, 
you will know all." On the following day, the comite 
de surveillance denounced the Marquis de Favras, 
who was in the service of Momieur, and produced 
evidence of a plan to carry off the king, and convey 
him to some frontier town. I know that Monsieur 
was much alarmed, and thought it necessary to ap- 
pear at the commune of Paris and disavow all con- 
nexion with the Marquis de Favras. He also wrote 
to the national assembly a letter of which Mirabeau 
claimed the authorship. The storm passed over. 
Favras, a ruined man and a gambler, was one of 
those adventurers whom great men always sacrifice 
when themselves are exposed to danger. During 
the proceedings against him, Favras behaved with 
as much sang-froid as the public evinced excite- 
ment. If an agent of Monsieur, he was faithful to 
the last, and he mounted the scaffold with a degree 
of courage that would have done honour to a better 
man. The secret of this intrigue was never known ; 
but I have no doubt Favras was one of those men 
who, when employed as instruments, are led by van- 
ity much further than their principals intend, in- 
stead of confining themselves to their particular 
sphere, they are spurred on by the fatal ambition of 



OF MIRABEAU. 195 

embracing objects beyond their reach, and are at 
last betrayed by their own activity. The fate of 
Favras convinced the court that their best policy 
was to form a party in the national assembly. As 
for Mirabeau, he bestowed a thousand curses upon 
the shuffling courtiers, those mountebank conspirators 
who confided the restoration of the monarchy to the 
exertions of a ruined gamester ; but the praises he 
bestowed upon the intrepidity of Favras in his last 
interrogatory, made me shrewdly suspect that the 
death of the latter was not less consolatory to his 
friends than to his enemies. 

I must not forget the part taken by Mirabeau in 
the debate upon church property. Turgot, in his 
article, Foundation, of the Encyclopedia, had shown 
that the legislature had an undoubted right to destroy 
private corporations whenever they became injuri- 
ous to the public welfare. He had also shown the 
absurdity of believing that a foundation, that is to 
say, the private will of an individual, could have the 
force of law. It followed from the principles he had 
laid down, that the clergy being only a body of pub- 
lic functionaries, their property was nothing more 
than a salary for the services they performed. So 
long as the clergy were considered Accessary to the 
state, so long ought they to be paid ; but the state 
had an undoubted right to pay them either out of 
the public revenue, like the army, or by means 



196 RECOLLECTIONS 

especially appropriated thereto, such as lands or 
tithes. Now the question was only to determine in 
which way they should be paid ; whether by allowing 
them a territorial domain or by fixed salaries, like 
other public ofiicers. The Bishop of Autun was 
the first to propose a sale of the church property for 
the extinction of the national debt, and to substitute 
a fixed salary in its stead. Mirabeau had embraced 
the same opinion, which was also that of the cote 
gauche and the popular party. There were two 
reasons for this measure : — the immense property of 
the clergy, of which immediate possession could be 
taken, and a consequent reduction of power, so as to 
bring that body to a level with its future place in a 
democratic constitution. A powerful clergy is a for- 
midable instrument in the hands of a king. The 
cause of the ecclesiastical body was strenuously de- 
fended by the Abbe Maury, the Archbishop of Aix, 
and several others. 

I had nothing to do with this discussion, nor did I 
write any speech for Mirabeau. I had my own 
opinions upon this question. I did not approve of 
immolating victims on the altar of public benefit; and 
I thought it unjust to discharge the national debt by 
the spoliation or the clergy. The abolition of con- 
vents, proceeded in with discretion, was a measure 
of humanity and wisdom, and the reduction in the 
future salaries of the clergy seemed compatible with 



OF MIRABEAU. 197 

prudence and justice ; but it did not appear to rae 
necessary to diminish the enjoyment of the actual pos- 
sessors. I had many discussions on this subject with 
the incumbents themselves; with the Abbe Morellet, 
for instance, who would willingly have consented to 
a sacrifice of part of his income, and approved of a 
proportionate reduction in the revenue of the pre- 
lates and great commendatories. I had imbibed 
my motions on the subject in England, were it is a 
principle in reforms never to effect them upon living 
persons. In France this principle was unknown. It 
had never been acknowledged by the old govern- 
ment. The expulsion of the Jesuits was a violation 
of it; M. Necker himself had never observed it, 
for he had never ceased to reduce, retrench, and 
economise without caring about the individuals he 
plundered, whom he considered liberally treated 
when they had sufficient left to keep them from actual 
starvation. The inflexible Camus, with his jansenist 
harshness, governed the poor state pensioners despot- 
ically ; and because, when he despoiled them of tljeir 
pensions, he did not appropriate the money to his 
own use, he passed for a virtuous defender of the 
public property. He multiplied degrees whereby he 
rendered thousands miserable, without making a sin- 
gle individual happy ; for the pensioners, who were 
the sufferers, endured a loss affecting their very 



198 RECOLLECTIONS 

means of subsistence, whilst the public, who gained 
by it, made but an imperceptible profit, spread as it 
was over the mass of the nation. How mistaken are 
those pretended reformers who can only better the 
condition of the one by sacrificing the other. 

At this juncture, the clergy might really be 
thought not to form part of the French nation. The 
national assembly, however, did not carry their pre- 
judice to exclusion, but purposed making a settle- 
ment upon the ecclesiastical body, which certainly 
would have proved sufiicient, if there had been no 
subsequent falling off. The clergy themselves 
would have suffered without a murmur, had the pro- 
mised settlement been regularly paid ; but the spoli- 
ation was real, for the payment of the indemnity 
was soon discontinued. 

The person who wrote Mirabeau's speech on 
this question, was one Pelin, a native of Mar- 
seilles, by profession a lawyer. In his youth he 
had been implicated in some dirty transactions, 
had undergone a condemnation, and either suffered 
punishment or saved himself from it by a pru- 
dential voyage to the West Indies. He had been 
of use to Mirabeau during the tumultuous elec- 
tion at Marsmles, and he came to Paris with 
his wife, a very young and very pretty woman, 
doubtless aware that she was in no danger from 



OF MIRABEAU. 199 

the austere morality of the tribune of the people. 
In appearance, Peliii was mild and timid ; he did 
not talk too much, was reserved and discreet, not bril- 
liant, but possessed of great abilities. He almost 
disappeared in the presence of Mirabeau, who treated 
him as a very humble subordinate, and often assumed 
a tone towards him which surprised me ; for Pelin 
was very useful to him, and had written for him a 
report upon Marseilles, another upon the municipali- 
ties, and other works which I have forgotten. Pelin 
was paid for all this, it is true, but complained of not 
being adequately remunerated. What made Mira- 
beau assume this air" of disdain and hauteur, was his 
profound contempt for the man, although he could 
appreciate his talents and determine to make use of 
them. One of the speeches upon church property 
written by Pelin, reminds me of a scene which I wit- 
nessed by chance. The Abbe Maury had refuted 
this speech very successfully. Mirabeau, unable to 
follow the abbe through his arguments, obtained 
leave to speak for the next d^y. On his return home, 
Pelin was not there. H^ispatched two or three 
successive messengers in search of nim, but no Pelin 
arrived. Towards evening Mirabe^^ecame uneasy 
and sent again. At length Pelin SSne. As I per- 
ceived that Mirabeau was in a state of great excite- 
ment and made use of expressions which the pre- 



200 RECOLLECTIONS 

sence of a third person rendered very humiliating, 
I withdrew into a closet with a glass door which I 
closed ; but I could not help overhearing every 
word of the reproaches which; like a storm, now 
burst upon Pelin's head. " Were you at the assem- 
bly?^' — "No!" — "What! you were not there? 
Is this the way you behave to me? See what an 
awkward situation you place me in. Maury spoke 
for an hour .... and what reply can you make to a 
speech you have not heard? You would prefer 
writing one against me; I know you well; but 
I tell you, that^by to-morrow morning, I must 
have a complete refutation of Maury's speech. 
You- will find some extracts from it in the 
evening papers." Pelin made some diflSiculty, 
and proposed that an adjournment of the question 
should be moved ; but Mirabeau seized him by the 
throat, pinned him against the wall, enjoined him to 
do what he ordered without delay, and to look well 
to his conduct. Pelin, with his mind thus prepared 
for labour and eloquence, withdrew at about seven 
o'clock in the evening ; ifed what appeared to me al- 
most miraculous'was, that at seven the next morning, 
I received froij^ Mirabeau a voluminous manuscript 
with a note b^^ing me to cast my eye over Pelin's 
lucubratipn of the preceding night ; to give a little 
touch, if necessary, to the beginning and end, and 



OF MIRABEAU. 201 

send it to him at the assembly at twelve. As I read 
this production, I was astonished at the flow of ideas, 
the force of reasoning, the logical arrangement of all 
its parts, and the subtlety of the arguments in refuta- 
tion of those points in which Maury had the advan- 
tage. It was a work of mere dry reasoning, for 
Pelin had neither imagination nor eloquence ; and 
its style was that of an ordinary advocate who dis- 
cusses but embellishes nothing. Mirabeau, less 
struck by this kind of merit than by that with which 
Pelin was not endued, did not d# him justice. I 
returned the manuscript with an- assurance that it 
might be used with^t fear. I had merely struck 
out a few superfluities, and was in admiration of the 
facility and sound logic which pervaded the whole. 
After all this trouble, the question was adjourned, 
and the speech only appeared in the Courrier de 
Provence. 

Mirabeau afterwards assured me that Pelin was 
so venal that he had more than once written for both 
parties upon the same question, and this amused him 
whilst he made it a sourS of considerable profit. 
But Mirabeau must still have had some confidence 
in the man, when he continued Jj| Employ him. 
Pelin, whose talents ought to have raised him to 
great influence among the jacobins, had^een em- 
ployed in the Low Countries by the d'Aremberg 
2a. 



202 RECOLLECTIONS 

family, and thus found himself implicated by degrees 
with the aristocratic party. If this individual had 
displayed more honesty or more energy, he would 
have attained to distinguished rank in a revolution 
which opened so wide a field to talent of every de- 
scription. 




r 



# 



1 



OF MIRABEAU. 203 



CHAPTER XII. 



MiRABEAu had quitted his furnished lodgings and 
taken a house in the Chaussee-d'Antin, which he 
fitted up like the boudoir of a petite maitresse. In 
his former straitened circumstances, he had never 
been able to indulge in his taste for luxury ; but he 
was fond of pleasure and show, elegant furniture, a 
good table and much company. There would have 
been nothing to blame in the style in which he now 
lived, had it not exceeded his means. His father 
had left him, besides the title of marquis, which he 
would not assume because he thought he had given 
more celebrity to his title of count, very considerable 
estates, but eat up with incumbrances and in the 
hands of creditors. He confided to me that an offer 
had been made to extricate him fr^ these embar- 
rassments and put him in possession of his family 
estates. The source whence such an offer came, 
would have raised suspicion in a proudly independent 
mind. It was again Monsieur, who undertook to 



204 RECOLLEGTIONS 

advance him twenty thousand francs a month until 
these incumbrances were wiped off, and thus become 
his only creditor. Such, at least, was the pretence 
given to a pension paid him by the court. It was 
the Duke de Levis, attached from his infancy to the 
household of Monsieur^ who had brought about this 
arrangement. When in receipt of the pension, Mi- 
rabeau no longer thought of paying his debts, except, 
indeed,' the most pressing, and this had probably 
been anticipated. But as, in appearance at least, 
the court had abandoned the project of a counter- 
revolution by means of the king's evasion, and were 
making great exertions to form a party in the assem- 
bly, it was necessary to supply Mirabeau with an 
establishment and the means of action. An open 
house was an essential requisite for bringing together 
the men he wanted. But, on the other hand, his 
new and expensive mode of living must naturally 
have raised suspicions as to the source of his increased 
income, and a tribune of the people becoming a Lu- 
cullus, could not fail to render him an object of dis- 
trust. The pension of twenty thousand francs was 
not long paid. Mirabeau was found indocile ; he 
did not consult the court party — paid no attention 
to the precautiras which the latter thought they had 
a right to impose upon him — and treated with the 
greatest contempt men, who, as he stated, wished to 
destroy his popularity, which was the very instrument 



OF MIRABEAU. 205 

of his success, and which alone could render his ser- 
vices available. 

He received another pension from the court, at 
this time, through the Prince Louis d'Aremberg, 
who was devoted to the queen, and perceived much 
better than the other courtiers, the fault of neglect- 
ing to acquire influence in the assembly. Mirabeau 
introduced me to the prince as he also did Diiroverai 
and Claviere. The conversations at which I was 
present related to the necessity of opposing, by pru- 
dent and measured publications, the unrestrained 
licentiousness of the public press, of obviating the 
excesses which could not but prove fatal to freedom, 
of convincing the nation that the king had entered 
with sincerity into the spirit of the revolution, and 
of eradicating that eternal mistrust which enervated 
all the measures of government. Certain it is, that, 
at this period, it was a duty incumbent upon every 
honest man in the kingdom to embrace the king's 
cause, because the latter felt himself bound, not only 
from honour and weakness of character, but from a 
dread of civil war, to proceed in concert with the 
national assembly ; and because nothing but violent 
measures and direct attacks, upon the last remnants 
of royalty, could detach the king from the assembly. 
Mirabeau, who knew how to set off his friends to 
advantage as well as to shine by their means, and who 
displayed a sort of generous pride in placing them in 



206 RECOLLECTIONS 

the most favourable light, had answered for our 
serving the king with zeal in all his exertions against 
anarchy. Claviere anticipated making his way to 
the ministry through this connexion. 

But it must not be imagined that our little society 
was always free from disputes. I never quarrelled 
with any of its members, because I had no personal 
object and was independent. I had been of service 
to every one of them, and was under no obligation to 
either in return. I was often under the necessity of 
appeasing or reconciling them ; but on one occasion 
I thought a rupture inevitable. We dined with the 
prince Louis d'Aremberg. Just as the dessert was 
put upon the table, the queen sent for the prince, 
who, as he should not be long absent, made us pro- 
mise not to go till he returned. There had been a 
little altercation in the course of the morning, but it 
had blown over, although enough of excitement re- 
mained to require little to fan it into a flame. Mi- 
rabeau was playing with one of his rings, which 
Claviere looked at, and said in a sarcastic tone : '' Is 
it a sphinx?" — ^^No,^' replied Mirabeau, " it is a 
beautiful head of Cicero, and here is one of Minerva, 
which is much admired."— ^^ Very good !" observed 
Claviere ironically, ^<^ Cicero on one side, Minerva 
on the other, and Demosthenes between the two." — 
"As for you," retorted Mirabeau, who could never 
bear a joke, ^^ if ever you get yourself painted as a 



OF MIRABEAU. 207 

Minerva, do not forget the owl." — " I am not gay, 
I confess, my dear count, and your means of making 
me so, are rather too much for me.'^ — " Oh ! if my 
means won't suit you, you have your own. Have 
you not de Bourges's libels on me ? Have you not 
Brissot's little productions? And have you not 
Madame le Jay's shop, where you state to ail who 
will listen to you, that my reputation is a usurped 
one, that I am indebted for it to the labours of my 
friends, and that if I were reduced to my own re- 
sources, I should be little or nothing?" — After this 
reply, the storm burst. The most violent reproaches 
rapidly succeeded each other; each accused the 
other of libelling him, of leaguing with his enemies, 
and of reports injurious to his character. Their 
anger at length became so impetuous that they could 
no longer moderate their voices ; and a servant, ex- 
cited no doubt by curiosity at hearing this noise, 
opened the door and inquired if they had called. 
In an instant Mirabeau resumed his sang-froid^ and 
with the greatest politeness thanked the man, telling 
him that if any thing was wanted they would ring. 
Duroverai now joined Claviere, bitterly reproached 
Mirabeau with many points of his conduct, and de- 
clared that what with his whims and^eraper, it was 
almost impossible to carry on any plan in conjunction 
with him. All soon became confusion — a medley 
of bitter sarcasms and mutual accusation. Mirabeau 



208 RECOLLECTIONS 

and Claviere, in great agitation, had often occasion 
to wipe their eyes, which were certainly not filled 
with tears of compassion. As I had hitherto re- 
mained neuter, and said nothing except now and then 
a few conciliatory words, which proved of no avail, 
Duroverai made a direct appeal to me, calling upon 
me to declare whether I had not often blamed such 
and such parts of Mirabeau's conduct, and whether 
I were not of their opinion on every point in dispute. 
Mirabeau, desirous perhaps of keeping open a road 
to reconciliation, said that if I had blamed him, it 
was openly and in a friendly conversation, but that I 
had never leagued with his enemies as they had 
done, nor endeavoured to undermine his character 
behind his back, by representing him as a plagiary. 
When I thought my turn was come to speak, 1 sim- 
ply observed that such disputes must terminate, and 
could not twice occur between men of honour. That 
if they chose to come to a rupture, I should be much 
grieved at it, but my resolution was taken, and Mi- 
rabeau could not blame me for not separating, in such 
an event, from my oldest friends and fellow country- 
men. But they would all three repent of such a 
rupture, founded, as it would be, merely upon those 
little inequalities of temper which they ought mu- 
tually to pardon in each other, or upon the exagge- 
rated and malicious reports of evil-disposed persons. 
" No further discussion is necessary ;" said I, " this 



OF MIRABEAU. 209 

must be brought to an issue. You are met here for 
a common object, and what fresh discovery have you 
made since dinner, that obliges you to separate? 
Your being friends at three o'clock was ridiculous, 
if you are not to be so now." — By degrees the con- 
versation resumed a milder tone, and we went home 
in the same carriage, without any thing but public 
measures being talked of on the way. 

A singular circumstance, which struck me very 
forcibly, had called this quarrel to my recollection. 
Mirabeau and Claviere, although beside themselves 
with rage, maintained, with regard to each other's 
characters, a discretion which surprised me. I 
trembled every moment lest Claviere should utter 
some taunts regarding Mirabeau's private conduct, 
and tax him with meanness in pecuniary matters. 
But although he had frequently mentioned such things 
to me, he was too much master of himself to utter 
them now ; whilst Mirabeau, on the other hand, 
foaming with pride and anger, had still the address 
to mingle with his invectives testimonies of esteem, 
and compliments upon Claviere's talents. Thus they 
scratched and caressed each other with the same 
hand. This rendered a reconciliation easier, and it 
convinced me that there is no candour even in the 
anger of a man of the world. 

I can recollect only one more legislative question 
of importance in which I had any share. In reading 
2b 



210 RECOLLECTIOiNS 

the Contrat Social and the Observations on Poland, 
I had remarked that Rousseau attached great impor- 
tance to a system of gradual elections ; that is to say, 
assimilating civil functionaries to military of&cers, by 
making them pass through different gradations of 
office. This has been done in most republics, with- 
out being the object of an express law, with the 
exception perhaps of Rome and Geneva, if such con- 
trasting names may be mentioned together. It 
seemed to me that such a system would be advisable 
in France, where a citizen should either pass through 
a municipality to a department, and through the 
latter to the national assembly, or have previously 
exercised public functions of some kind, such, for 
instance, as those of judge or advocate. Two years 
of subaltern functions would not make a deputy grow 
old during his political apprenticeship, and would 
give him great facility in conducting the important 
business of the legislature. The question was soon 
debated among us, and Mirabeau warmly approved 
of the plan. I wrote a speech on the occasion, with 
which I took the greatest pains, and when it was 
first proposed, I had the pleasure of seeing the cote 
droit join the cote gauche in support of it. But 
something in it, I know not what, displeased the 
Lameths ; and Barnave and Duport moved an ad- 
journment. They perceived, they said, all kinds 
of aristocratic snares in this proposal, although sup- 



OF MIRABEAU.. 211 

ported on the high authority of Rousseau ; and this 
party had taken such sure steps to obtain a docile 
majority in the assembly, that the warmest admirers 
of the project cooled upon it, and the adjournment 
was carried. This is another occasion on which I 
had to regret Mirabcau's possessing so little the 
talent of parliamentary debate, and studying a sub- 
ject so superficially as he was accustomed to do. 
He could not reply to Barnave, because he knew 
nothing of the question beyond the speech I had 
written for him ; indeed, he had paid so little atten- 
tion to it, that he was unable even to reproduce, in 
the form of a reply, the arguments of that very speech. 
The motion was lost ; but it had interested the re- 
flecting portion of the assembly. Mallouet had 
spoken in its favour, and RoBderer enumerated the 
persons eligible in France, counting by the munici- 
palities and the departments. I had the satisfaction 
to reply to Barnave in the Courrier de Provence, 
and I never wrote with greater pleasure. I com- 
pletely refuted his arguments, and all the thinking 
members of the assembly, convinced of the utility of 
the measure, begged Mirabeau to bring it forward 
on some other occasion. But as the prudential con- 
siderations connected with the candidates at the 
next elections, would prevent its being carried into 
execution for some years at least, it was not urgent 
to press it at that time. Had it even been inserted 



213 RECOLLECTIONS 

in the constitution, it would, for the first few years, 
have been of no use. Two or three of my friends in 
England who, after reading Mirabeau's first speech 
on this gradual system, had blamed it as imposing 
an unnecessary restraint upon elections, changed 
their opinion on reading my reply, in the Courrier 
de Provence, to Barnave's objections. The motion 
had only one defect, and that was a vital one ; it was 
the clause which delayed for ten years the execution 
of the measure. This had been done with a view of 
gaining a sufficient number of candidates who had 
passed through the lower gradations ; instead of which, 
the persons eligible should have been immediately 
limited, in order that at the ensuing elections, either 
the old deputies should be re-elected, or, in their 
stead, persons already in the municipalities and de- 
partments. Had this precaution been taken, the 
second assembly would have been composed of select 
men interested in maintaining the constitution. 



OF MIRABEAU. 213 



CHAPTER XIII. 



I QUITTED Paris in the beginning of March. Sev- 
eral reasons induced me to do so. The quarrels 
between Duroverai and Mirabeau had become so 
frequent, from Madame le Jay's dishonest practices 
with regard to the Courrier de Provence, the whole 
profits of which she appropriated to herself, that I 
was glad to withdraw from the paper altogether. 
My sanguine hopes of regeneration and public good 
had considerably abated. Not that I conceived the 
national assembly would not succeed in framing a 
constitution ; but I had observed its proceedings so 
closely, that the charm had disappeared, my curios- 
ity was satisfied, and all illusion had vanished. Du- 
roverai left me more than my share of the work, and 
I was sick to death of it, particularly when it origi- 
nated quarrels and pecuniary discussions. Besides, 
my feelings towards Mirabeau, whom I had always 
personally liked on account of his great abilities and 
his affectionate manners towards me, were much 



2i4 RECOLLECTIONS 

altered since I had become too well acquainted with 
hira. His intentions were good, but his passions 
constantly carried him too far. He was attached to 
the king and desirous of serving the monarchy, 
threatened, as it was, on all sides, and the jacobins 
exerting themselves for its overthrow. But the mo- 
tives of his services were not pure ; and his expen- 
sive style of living, supported by means not over 
delicate, alienated me from him by degrees. What 
immediately determined me to leave Paris was, that 
in several political writings of the day, my name 
was associated with his. The first was a pamphlet 
by Pelletier entitled : Domine salvum fac regerrif 
in which, after despoiling Mirabeau of his works, 
the addresses were attributed to Duroverai and the 
Courrier de Provence to me. In a short time we 
were named in a multitude of libels. I felt consid- 
erable pleasure in being known to a small circle of 
friends, but was disgusted at being mentioned pub- 
licly. The character of a subaltern writer was by 
no means flattering to my pride ; and the idea of an 
influential intimacy with a man whose celebrity was 
not immaculate, revolted my delicacy. Instead of 
having credit for the good I had done, and the evil 
I had been instrumental in preventing, the very ex- 
cesses which I had been the first to condemn, would 
naturally be attributed to me. I perceived that 
many respectable individuals showed me marked 



OF MIRABEAU. 215 

coldness, from the contempt with which Mirabeau 
inspired them. I had long preserved all my first 
acquaintances at Paris, and I was much hurt at per- 
ceiving that party spirit had alienated many of them. 
My friends in London wrote to entreat I would re- 
turn, because a connexion with Mirabeau was a 
stamp of reprobation springing from the prejudices 
against the revolutionary party, then becoming pre- 
valent in England. I did return, and the unfavour- 
able suspicions which had begun to spread among my 
acquaintances, immediately ceased. 

During my residence at Paris, I had become more 
or less intimate with several individuals of whom 1 
shall say a word. What I here state, however, is 
a mere memorandum, to enable me at a future period 
to remember some anecdotes. For they sometimes 
occur to my recollection unexpectedly, just as you 
often by chance find a thing you had lost, when 
looldng for something else. 

I used to meet Barrere de Vieuzac at a table- 
d'hote, where several deputies were in the habit of 
dining. I considered him of a mild and amiable 
temper. He was very well-bred, and seemed to love 
the pevolution from a sentiment of benevolence. I 
am persuaded that his association with Robespierre, 
and the court which he paid to the different parties 
he successively joined and afterwards deserted, were 
less the effect of an evil disposition, than of a timid 



216 RECOLLECTIONS 

and versatile character, and a conceit which made 
him think it incumbent upon him to appear as a pub- 
lic man. His talents as an orator were by no means 
of the first order ; there were fifty speakers in the 
assembly superior to him. He was afterwards sur- 
named the Anacreon of the guillotine ; but when I 
knew him he was only the Anacreon of the revolu- 
tion, upon which, in his "^ Point dujour/^ he wrote 
some very amorous strains. 

Barnave had a lodging in the house at Versailles 
of which we occupied a part, after we left the hotel 
Charost. I never could have become intimate with 
him, even had he not belonged to the Lameth fac- 
tion, and been consequently Mirabeau's enemy. He 
displayed the most irritable self-love, an appearance 
of jealousy and ill-temper, and the most disgusting 
presumption. His talents in debate were powerful ; 
that is to say, after he had exercised them ; for in the 
beginning of his parliamentary career, he was dread- 
fully prolix and heavy. He was one of those men 
who owe their talents to their own exertions, and the 
development of his was very rapid.* His jealousy 
of his CO -deputy Mounier, had, as much as his revo- 
lutionary principles, estranged him from the latter. 

I frequently saw Petion, without indeed guessing 

* Mirabeau once said of Barnave, at a time when he was 
satisfied with him : " He is a tree growing to become some day 
the mast of a line-of-battle ship." — Note by Dumont. 



OF MIRABEAU. 217 

what he would one day become. He had the embon- 
point of an indolentj and the manners of a good kind 
of man. But he was very vain, and considered him- 
self a first rate orator, because, like Barnave, he 
spoke extempore. He possessed nothing above 
mediocrity either in wit or intellect, — no strength or 
force of expression. 

I had known Target the year before, but since his 
election to a seat in the great assembly, he had 
become a man of such consequence, that I was too 
insignificant a personage to be noticed, by him ; and 
after once or twice encountering his airs of impor- 
tance, I was not again tempted to obtrude my- 
self upon his notice. It was said of him that he was 
drowned in his talents. He was always suffocated 
by hard words. In Mirabeau's journal, I revenged 
myself of his airs by some pleasantries, but it would 
have required much stronger powers than mine to 
puncture his dropsical eloquence. 

Duroverai and I, when at Versailles, often dined 
with Mallouet whom we continued to visit at Paris. 
He has left upon me the impression of being an amia- 
ble man of mild manners and moderate in his poli- 
tical sentiments. He was continually making blun- 
ders in the assembly, to whose forms he could not 
accustom himself; every thing he did was in the 
wrong place. He constantly blurted out the most 
offensive words, and got himself into scrapes, for the 
2 c 



218 RECOLLECTIONS 

veriest trifles ; but he had intellect, firmness of mind, 
good intentions and experience. His work in favour 
of the slave trade, was not one of his best titles to 
fame. 

Volney, a tall, lathy, splenetic man, was in a course 
of reciprocal flattery with Mirabeau. He had ex- 
aggeration and much dryness, but he was not one of 
the working members of the assembly. It was 
deemed necessary one day to order the galleries to 
be silent. "What !" exclaimed Volney, ^^ are we to 
impose silence upon our masters?" 

I had twice occasion to converse with Robes- 
pierre. He had a sinister expression of countenance, 
never looked you in the face, and had a continual and 
unpleasant winking of the eyes. Having once asked 
me for some information relative to Geneva, I urged 
him to speak upon the subject in the assembly ; but 
he told me that he was a prey to the most childish 
timidity, that he never approached the tribune with- 
out trembling, and that when he began to speak, his 
faculties were entirely absorbed by fear. 

I sometimes met the Abbe Morellet, who had 
already become very violent against the national as- 
sembly. He would have pardoned its democracy, 
had it only respected — not the church, which he did 
not much respect himself — but church property, of 
which he had but lately received his share and 
thought it hard to lose it so soon. As he had been 



OF MIRABEAU, 219 

one of the promoters of the then all-absorbing spirit 
of liberty, Lord Lansdowne wrote to him that he 
ought to consider himself as a ivounded soldier in a 
victorious army. The victory, if it were one, did 
not, however, console him for his wound. I met 
Marmontel at his house. The topics of conversa- 
tion were what the philosophers of the age had 
done for the eradication of prejudices, and the 
errors into which they had led the people, by 
their exaggerations. The general anticipations 
were far from realized by the aspect which pub- 
lic affairs then presented, and Marmontel, who was 
one of the discontented, said, "The national as- 
sembly often reminds me of a saying of Madame de 
Sevigne: ' / should like Provence if there were no 
ProvengauxJ '^* 

I occasionally saw M. Necker, but only as minister 
and to confer about our affairs of Geneva. I even 
carried on a correspondence with him, and have 
some anecdotes on this circumstance, which I shall 
reserve for a separate chapter. 

Champfort often visited Mirabeau, to whom he 
sometimes rendered literary services, and also com- 
municated his violence and harshness. We always 
remarked that after a visit from Champfort, Mira- 

* Natives of Provence, a people peculiarly harsh and ill- 
mannered. — English Editor. 



220 RECOLLECTIONS 

beau's sentiments had become more bitter and more 
exaggerated. Nothing being now left in the state 
for Champfort to overthrow, he prepared for Mira- 
beau a speech against academies in general, and 
against the French Academy in particular. The 
latter, from the object of his ambition, had become 
the subject of his epigrams. 

About the end of 1790, I spent six months at 
Geneva. I went thither to meet my mother and 
sisters who had returned to visit their native coun- 
try. On my way to Geneva, I remained about three 
wrecks at Paris with Achille Duchatelet, my fellow 
traveller from London, where I had become ac- 
quainted with him. Achille Duchatelet had served 
in America and was imbued with republican princi- 
ples. On the breaking out of the French revolution, 
he had embraced the popular party, and this bias 
was much strengthened by his intimacy with Con- 
dorcet. His ambition was solely confined to military 
glory. He was brave, open, honest, and generous; 
had information, taste and facility ; was one of the 
most amiable men I knew ; but displayed the unheed- 
ing impetuosity of a young Frenchman educated in 
the style of those whose noble birth superseded the' 
necessity of knowledge. If the mind of such a man as 
Duchatelet had been formed in England, it would have 
possessed much more depth and greater strength ; for 
in his justification it may be observed, that his faults 



OF MIRABEAT^. 221 

were only those of the school in which he had been 
brought up. He had been much struck with the 
discovery he had made, that England was a much 
more moral nation than his own. The examination 
of a religion less superstitious than the one he pro- 
fessed, overcame his prejudice against all religions. 
We had several interesting conversations on this 
subject, and my principles, much more serious than 
his, had tended rather to cement than to destroy our 
growing friendship. He was a great admirer of 
Mirabeau, who was often the theme of our conver- 
sation, as he was, at that period, of the conversation 
of all France, and all Europe. For he was the ruler 
of that assembly who ruled all. At the assembly, the 
eyes of every one were directed in search of him in 
the midst of his colleagues ; each was happy at hav- 
ing heard him speak, and his most familiar expressions 
were preserved as apothegms. We found, even in 
the postilions, a singular mode of testifying their 
admiration of him. ^' Your horses are very bad,'' 
said we to a post boy between Calais and Amiens — 
" Yes," he replied, "my two side horses are bad, 
but my Mirabeau is excellent." The middle horse, 
in the shafts, being the strongest and doing the most 
work, was called the Mirabeau; and provided the 
latter was good^ little attention was paid to the others. 
Duchatelet was aware that I had the credit, at Paris, 
of being the author of some of Mirabeau's speeches, 



222 RECOLLECTIONS 

and he sounded me on the subject, biit with discre- 
tion. I said nothing in reply to justify his surmises. 
" Mirabeau must indeed," said he, endeavouring to 
penetrate my thoughts, " be the author of his writ- 
ten speeches, because they are precisely in the same 
style as his extempore ones. They contain the same 
principles and the same expressions. If he had the 
materials prepared for him, I have no doubt that he 
put them together himself. But you, who have 
seen so much of him, must be able to give a positive 
opinion on this point." — " I think," said I, " that 
some people take a delight in undermining the fame 
of a man of celebrity. Nothing is more easy than to 
cast imputations of this kind, and nothing more dif- 
ficult than to refute them. But what matters it 
whether he lays his friends under contribution or 
not, provided he make them produce that which, 
without him, they could not have done? For, in 
such a case, he is the real author. This species of 
merit does not belong to every body. And we may 
ask, how happens it that he is the only one who 
knows how to use coadjutors, and that no other per- 
son has the same resource ?" It was thus I eluded 
his questions without deceiving him. But Mirabeau 
himself, by his usual indiscretion, soon betrayed the 
secret. The instant I arrived, I again became his 
confidant. Not only had he maintained his influence 
in the assembly, but had become more powerful than 



OF MIRABEAU. 223 

ever. He had formed no precise party, but exer- 
cised a successive influence over both parties, and 
was treated with as a great power. The jacobins, 
who, at this period, formed a state within a state, and 
who sometimes successfully competed with the national 
assembly itself, were alternately governed by the 
Lameths, Robespierre and Petion; but whenever 
Mirabeau condescended to appear in their tribune, 
he always warped them to his will. He seldom, 
however, went among them ; for his contempt of this 
dangerous faction was only equalled by his jealousy 
of their growing influence. 

He informed me that he was on good terms with 
the court ; that he had seen the Queen, whose coun- 
cils he directed, and that he entertained well-founded 
hopes from that quarter. It had been found neces- 
sary to obtain his services, instead of listening to the 
imprudent advice of the emigrants, and the princes 
of the blood. 

He had then a repbrt to make, in the name of the 
diplomatic committee, on the feelings of the other 
European powers towards France. This report 
deeply interested the court ; for in other hands, it 
might have become the torch of war, or at least ex- 
cited general mistrust. Mirabeau's intention was to 
make it a means of conciliation — to overcome by it the 
prejudices which the jacobins continued to raise 
against the houses of Spain and Austria, and to con- 



224 RECOLLECTIONS 

elude it by charging the executive power with the 
precautions necessary for the safety of the kingdom. 
He requested me to write the part of his speech 
relating to England ; — to forget nothing that might 
consolidate the friendship of the two countries, and 
to strike hard at Burke's hook against the French 
revolution. He was desirous of giving a democratic 
colouring to this speech, in order to insure the success 
of his proposal in favour of the executive power. I 
undertook this task the more willingly, because no- 
thing was more in unison with my opinions than to 
combat, on such a momentous question, the preju- 
dices existing against England, and preserve peace 
between the two nations. I had found so much ex- 
aggeration in Burke's work, that I felt no scruple in 
representing it as a piece of mere declamation, by 
no means expressing the sentiments of the English 
nation. I wrote three or four pages of argument on 
this subject. On the following day, Mirabeau came 
to Duchatelet's to fetch me, and being unable to con- 
tain his impatience, read the whole of his speech, 
with the exception of the portion upon England 
which I had not yet given him. 

Duchatelet and I went to the assembly. The 
speech was well received, particularly the part about 
England and Burke ; because peace with Great 
Britain was then sincerely desired, and the French 
were anxious to obtain the esteem of the English. 



OF MIBABEAU. 225 

Duchatelet made no remark to me, but the same 
evening he said in my presence, to Madame Condor- 
cet, " This man is one of those who prefer concealing 
what they do, to boasting of that which they have 
not done." Scarcely was I introduced into this 
society, when I received that polished kindness of 
which the French alone have the secret, and which 
is the more flattering, because there is no fuss made 
about it, and it consists more in attentions than in 
words. My reserve with Duchatelet on the subject 
of Mirabeau, obtained the same reward as modesty 
does, which is always centuple ; and he attributed 
to me more than I really had done or could do. 

I have not many recollections of these three weeks, 
because I saw too many people, and was in a constant 
bustle. I dined several times with Mirabeau, whose 
style of living was more sumptuous than ever. He 
was in a state of affluence such as he had never known 
before, and certainly did not enjoy it with discretion. 
I was surprised at seeing him, after dinner, display 
a casket of jewels of considerable value. This was 
proclaiming the civil list with a vengeance, and I 
was astonished it did not affect his popularity. He 
had purchased part of BufTon's library, which was 
not a large collection, but very valuable. His table 
was sumptuous, and his company numerous. At an 
early hour, his house was full of visitors ; it was an 
uninterrupted levee from seven in the morning, till 
2d 



226 RECOLLECTIONS 

the hour at which he went to the assembly often 
through a crowd waiting for him at the door, to en- 
joy the happiness of seeing him pass. Though titles 
had been abolished, his remained, and he was still 
the Count de Mirabeau, not only for his guests and 
his servants, but for the people, who always love to 
bedeck their idols. Surprised at all this ostentation, 
I said one day to Claviere, "Mirabeau is badly ad- 
vised ; he would make people suppose that he was 
afraid of being taken for an honest man." — "He is 
necessary to us ; we cannot do without him ;" replied 
Claviere, " he alone can keep the jacobins and the 
court in awe, and if he cost the nation a million, it 
would be money well laid out." 

I might liave become possessed of many secrets 
relative to his private political connexions, his par- 
ticular views, his means, and his intrigues, for he 
seemed greatly disposed to unbosom himself to me ; 
but I chose to become neither a censor, nor a syco- 
phant, and his conduct was in too great discordance 
with my notion of the duties of a public man and the 
dignity of an independent mind, for me to think of 
entering with him into a subject which could only be 
unpleasant to both. He well knew my opinions, and 
hinted to me in a thousand different ways, that his 
only object was to save the monarchy if possible ; — 
that for such purpose, luxury and ostentation were 
necessary — that morality in trifles was always the 



OF MIRABEAU. 227 

enemy of morality in things of importance — that 
disinterested services were of very rare occurrence 
— and that the court had hitherto thoughtlessly and 
without advantage lavished money in profusion. 

I remember an infamous anecdote of the Abbe 
Lamourette, aferwards bishop of Lyons. It occur- 
red during dinner ; and Garrat, Volney, Cabanis, 
Palissot, and several others were present. Lamou- 
rette was the author of Mirabeau's speeches upon 
the civil constitution of the clergy , and Mirabeau 
did not appear, in private, to entertain the same 
opinion upon this subject as he had maintained in 
public. On the contrary, he wished for a Catholic 
clergy, but not a dominant or exclusive one. Palis- 
sot was speaking of the Abbe Grcgoire who evinced 
much zeal in the cause of religion, and whom, with 
the usual intolerance of these gentlemen, he accused 
of being a charlatan, and a hypocrite, "That I can 
safely deny," said Lamourette, "for I was his pro- 
fessor of theology ; and I can vouch for his believing 
in God a hundred times more than is necessary." — 
"Take care what you say ;" said Mirabeau, " here 
is a Genevese whom you will oifend, for he believes 
in God from the bottom of his heart." — " And so do 
I," replied Lamourette, " I should be very sorry 
that he understood me otherwise." — After dinner, 
on opening a new book which lay upon the table, my 
attention was arrested by the following title : " Med- 



\ 



228 RECOLLECTIONS 

itations of the soul with its God^ by the Abbe La- 
mourette, Professor of Theology/' &c. 

Mirabeau was not satisfied with the side he had 
taken on the question of the clergy ; and this I recol- 
lect perfectly. M. Bertrand de Molleville, in his 
Annals; imputes to him very profound views, and 
thinks that in furtherance of the plan he had formed, 
it was necessary to excite the clergy against the as- 
serablyj in order to bring fresh auxiliaries to the 
king. This reasoning is very far-fetched. I should 
rather suppose that he had acted from weakness, and 
feared to resist the opinion of the revolutionists, 
which opinion, nevertheless, he did not confound 
with that of the nation. 

During the last week I spent at Paris, I saw Mira- 
beau in a new situation — one which he had often 
seemed to despise, rather I should think from envy 
than indifference; — he was made president of the 
assembly. Hitherto he had been carefully kept out 
of the presidency, although every other distinguish- 
ed member, and many besides who had no claim to it, 
had already filled the chair. His present call to the 
presidency showed that the court party began to 
perceive how useful he might be to them, for he had 
too many secret enemies among the democrats to be 
elected by a majority consisting only of their votes. 
Never had this office been so well filled ; he dis- 
played in it a new kind of talent. He introduced a 



OF MIRABEAU. 229 

degree of order and clearness in the proceedings, of 
the possibility of which no member had previously 
the least conception. He simplified forms ; could 
render the question clear by a single word, and also 
by a single word put down tumult. His regard for 
all parties, the respect he always paid to the assem- 
bly, the precision of his observations, and his answers 
to the several deputations at the bar^ — answers 
which, whether prepared or extempore, were always 
remarkable for dignity and elegance, and satisfactory 
even in conveying a refusal ; — in short, his activity, 
his impartiality, and his presence of mind increased 
his reputation, and added splendour to his talents in 
an office which had proved a quicksand to many of 
his predecessors. He had the art of appearing the 
first, and of fixing the general attention, even when, 
being no longer able to speak from the tribune, he 
seemed to have foregone his most valuable preroga- 
tive. His enemies and those jealous of his eloquence, 
who had voted for him, in order thereby to cast him 
in the shade and reduce him to silence, were bitterly 
disappointed when they saw him add another wreath 
to the chaplet of his glory. 

He was far from enjoying good health at this pe- 
riod. " If I believed in slow poisons," he said to me, 
^^I should think myself poisoned. For I feel that I 
am dying by inches — that I am being consumed in a 
slow fire." I observed to him that his mode of life 



230 RECOLLECTIONS 

would long ago have destroyed any man less robust 
than he. Not an instant of rest from seven in the 
morning till ten or eleven at night ; continual con- 
versations, agitations of mind and excitement of every 
passion ; too high living, in food only, for he was 
very moderate in drink. "You must," I said, "be 
a salamander to live in the fire which is consuming 
you." Like all public and ambitious men in their 
moments of ennui and fatigue, he entertained, at 
times, thoughts of retiring from public life. The 
irritation of his system, at this time, produced violent 
attacks of ophthalmia, and I have seen him, whilst he 
was president, sometimes apply leeches to his eyes 
in the .interval during the adjournment of the sitting 
from the morning to the evening, and attend the as- 
sembly with his neck covered with linen to staunch 
the blood. 

When we separated, he embraced me with an emo- 
tion I had never before seen him evince. " I shall 
die at the stake, my dear friend," said he, " and we 
shall never, perhaps, meet again. When I am gone, 
my value will be appreciated. Misfortunes to which 
I have put a stop, were overwhelming France in 
every direction ; but that base faction whom I now 
overawe, will again be let loose upon the country. 
I have nor^e but direful anticipations. Ah ! my friend, 
how right were we when, in the beginning, we tried 
to prevent the commons from being declared a national 



OF MIRABEAU. 231 

assembly. This is the origin of the evil. Since 
they have carried that point, they have not ceased to 
show that they are unworthy of confidence. They 
wanted to govern the king, instead of being governed 
by him ; but soon neither they nor he will govern ; 
a vile faction will rule the country, and debase it by 
the most atrocious crimes." 

I did not then think that Mirabeau's forebodings 
would be realized in every point. I considered 
them as the mere workings of his ardent imagination, 
and felt by no means disposed to believe in the vil- 
lainy of the individuals whom he designated as the 
chiefs of the jacobins. I had often seen his hatred 
towards individuals lead him into similar exaggera- 
tions, and 1 attributed his sinister prognostics, in the 
present instance, to the same cause. 

Three months after this conversation, Mirabeau 
was no more, . . . 



232 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XIV. 



I AM not perfectly acquainted with the private life 
of Mirabeau, his domestic habits, or the particulars 
of his conduct to his parents and his wife. The vio- 
lence of his youthful passions, may perhaps justify 
his father's severity ; but the Marquis de Mirabeau, 
as violent as his son^ had certainly not the art of 
governing the impetuous temper of the latter. In- 
stead of attempting to lead him by affection, to which 
the young man was feelingly alive, he would fain 
subjugate him by force. Mirabeau used to compare 
his family to that of Atreus and Thyestes. The 
eternal quarrels between the parents, formed the 
children into two hostile factions, and accustomed 
them, at a very early age, to constraint and dissimu- 
lation ; whilst the contagion of vice had but too much 
power over such a temperament as Mirabeau's, so 
precocious in every respect, and depraved by female 
intercourse long before his reason had attained to 
maturity. The manner in which he was brought up, 



OF MIRABEAU. 233 

may explain that singular complication of contradic- 
tory qualities by which he was characterized. 

I have heard, that to obtain the hand of his wife, 
he practised a very mean stratagem. The parents 
had refused their consent, from a preference for a 
rival. It therefore became necessary to force this 
rival to withdraw, which he is said to have eifected 
by the following means. He gained the good graces 
of a maid servant in the house, with whom he had 
meetings after the family were gone to bed. He 
used to drive his carriage into a neighbouring street, 
in order to impart an air of mystery to his motions. 
This carriage was left there several hours, and the 
spies of the rival soon reported that the Count de 
Mirabeau was in the habit of passing the night at the 
house of his mistress. The lady's reputation became 
thus implicated, the rival withdrew, and the parents 
deemed themselves fortunate in hushing the matter 
up by consenting to the marriage. The happiness 
of this union, founded upon fraud, was soon inter- 
rupted by reciprocal infidelity and a separation. 

Mirabeau's correspondence with Madame Mou- 
nier, from his prison at Vincennes, evinced more of 
sensuality than sentiment. Many of his letters are 
so repugnant to modesty, that they degrade the per- 
son to whom they are addressed ; for no man would 
presume to adopt so licentious a style in writing to a 

woman for whom he had the least esteem. Garat 
2 E 



234 RECOLLECTIONS 

undertook to detect the plagiarisms ia this corres- 
pondence. I heard his paper read at M. de Talley- 
rand's. Mirabeau, when writing to his mistress, 
would copy whole pages from several periodicals of 
the day. " Listen, my beloved,^' he would write, 
" whilst I pour my whole soul into thy bosom ;" and 
such intimate confidence was a literal transcription 
from the Mercure de France, or a new novel. 

During the leisure of his solitude in prison, he 
composed an obscene work, which was nothing more 
than a compilation of the most monstrous impurities 
found in the ancients. 

That a mind like Mirabeau's should be formed 
from materials so impure, is doubtless matter of as- 
tonishment ; but Mirabeau, though immoral, was not 
crapulous. He delighted in sensibility and affection. 
I have often heard him express disgust at seeing the 
unhappy victim of public prostitution. Nor did he 
make a merit of this, for he believed himself a greater 
sinner against society than they. Mirabeau could 
inspire, as well as feel affection. — He had- attached 
himself in Holland to a woman of respectable family, 
who had united her fate to his from the effects of a 
passion which absorbed every other consideration. 
She was unmarried, young, beautiful, full of grace 
and modesty ; she would have been an ornament to 
virtue, had she never seen Mirabeau ; and no one, 
perhaps, was more deserving of indulgence and com- 



OF MIRABEAU. 235 

miseration. Mirabeau's friends never forgave him 
for sacrificing this interesting creature to a wretched 
woman, who had the insolence of vice, and boasted 
of her licentiousness. But Madame le Jay had 
artifice and malice ; was familiar with intrigue, flat- 
tering and voluptuousness. This woman took advan- 
tage of her influence over Mirabeau to excite his 
natural violence and promote her own interest ; and 
his friends lamented to see him the prey of a cove- 
tous and debauched female^, who had not one good 
quality to compensate her faults. 

Mirabeau had a confidence in his own power, 
which supported him in difficulties under which 
another would have sunk. His imagination loved 
whatever was great, and his mind had extraordinary 
powers of discrimination. He had natural good 
taste, which he had cultivated by reading the best 
authors of several nations. Without any depth of 
information, he made good use of the little he knew; 
in the turmoil of his stormy life he wanted leisure 
for study, but in his prison at Vincennes, he went 
through a course of general reading, made translations 
from foreign authors, and formed a collection of ex- 
tracts from many eminent writers. All this, however, 
scarcely amounted to the stock of knowledge belong- 
ing to the most ordinary man of letters ; and when he 
spoke with the open confidence of friendship, he 
was by no means vain of his acquirements. But 



236 RECOLLECTIONS 

what he possessed beyond other men, was an elo- 
quent and impassioned soul;, which, the instant it 
was excited, animated every feature of his coun- 
tenance ; and nothing was more easy, than to bring 
on the requisite degree of excitement. He had been 
accustomed, from his youth, to consider the two 
great questions of politics and government ; but he was 
not competent to enter deeply into them. The work 
of discussion, examination, and doubt was beyond his 
reach. He had too much warmth and effervescence 
of mind for didactic method or laborious application. 
His mind proceeded by starts and leaps, but its con- 
ceptions were bold and vigorous. He abounded in 
forcible expressions, of which he made a particular 
study, and was peculiarly qualified to shine in a 
popular assembly, at a stormy period, when force and 
audacity were the necessary passports to success. 

As an author he cannot rank high, for all his works, 
without exception, are a species of patch-work, of 
which very little would be left if each contributor 
took back his own. But he imparted splendour to 
whatever he touched, by introducing here and there 
luminous thoughts, original expressions, and apostro- 
phes full of fire and eloquence. It was a singular 
faculty, that which he had of discovering obscure 
talents, applying to each the degree of encouragement 
necessary to its peculiar character, and animating 
those who possessed them with his own zeal, so as to 



OF MIRABEAU. 237 

make them eagerly co-operate in a work of which he 
was to reap all the credit. 

He felt himself absolutely incapable of writing 
upon any subject, except he were guided and sup- 
ported by the work of another. His style, naturally 
strained, degenerated into turgescence, and he was 
soon disgusted with the emptiness and incoherence of 
his own ideas. But when he had materials to work 
upon, he could prune and connect, impart a greater 
degree of life and force, and imprint upon the whole 
the stamp of eloquence. That is what he called 
putting the irait to a work. This trait consisted of 
a forcible expression, an image, a flash of wit, an 
epigram, an irony, or an allusion; something, in 
short, smart and pungent, which he conceived abso- 
lutely necessary to keep up the attention of his read- 
ers. It will readily be perceived how dangerous the 
^ra/^mania, if indulged in, would become to good 
taste, and that it would rapidly lead to the affecta- 
tion which characterized the ages of the decline of 
literature. 

As a political orator, Mirabeau was, in certain 
points, superior to all other men. He had a rapid 
coup deceit J a quick and sure perception of the feel- 
ings of the assembly, and well knew how to apply 
his entire strength to the point qf resistance without 
exhausting his means. No other orator did so much 
witl» a single word, nor hit the mark with so sure an 



238 RECOLLECTIONS 

aim; none but Mirabeau ever forced the general 
opinion either by a happy insinuation, or by a strong 
expression which intimidated his adversaries. In 
the tribune he was immovable. They who have 
seen him well know that no agitation in the assembly 
had the least effect upon him, and that he remained 
master of his temper even under the severest per- 
sonal attacks. I once recollect to have heard him 
make a report upon the city of Marseilles. Each 
sentence was interrupted from the cote droit with 
low abuse ; the words calumniator, liar, assassin, 
and rascal, were very prodigally lavished upon him. 
On a sudden he stopped, and with a honeyed accent, 
as if what he had stated had been most favourably 
received, " I am waiting, gentleman," said he, ^^ until 
the fine compliments you are paying me, are exhaus- 
ted." He never considered himself sufla-ciently pro- 
voked to forget the decorum of public oratory. But 
what was wanting to make him a perfect political 
speaker was, the power of discussion. His mind 
could not embrace a chain of reasoning or of evi- 
dence, nor could he refute methodically. Thus, he 
was often obliged to abandon important motions after 
he had read his speech ; for in reply, after a brilliant 
exordium, he had no alternative but to abandon the 
field of battle to his adversaries. This defect pro- 
ceeded from his embracing too much, and not medi- 
tating sufiiciently. He appeared with a speech that 



OF MIRABEAU. 239 

had been written for him, and upon the arguments of 
which he had scarcely bestowed any reflection. He 
had not taken the pains to anticipate objections and 
discuss details ; and in these respects he w^as very 
inferior to many of the intellectual giants whom I had 
heard in the English parliament. The triumph of 
Fox, for instance, is in refutation. He resumes all 
the arguments of the adverse party, puts them in a 
new light and gives them more force ; — having thus 
placed himself in the most difficult situation, he pul- 
verizes them one by one, and never appears stronger 
than when he seems about to be overthrown. The 
only speakers in the national assembly, possessing any 
share of this faculty, were Maury, Clermont Tonnere, 
Barnave and Thouret. Barnave, in particular, was 
cased in an armour of logic and argument ; he fol- 
lowed the reasoning of his opponents step by step, 
but he had neither imagination, style, nor eloquence. 
• Some one comparing his didactic talents with Mira- 
beau's eloquence, another said to him, " How can 
you compare that artificial espalier to a tree exposed 
to every blast, spreading its branches in the full 
luxuriance of natural beauty!" Certain it is that 
the two individuals were not to be compared. But 
Mirabeau was conscious of his deficiency in power 
of discussion, and one day when one of his attempts 
at refutation had been crowned with a degree of 
success, he said to us, " I well perceive that to speak 



240 RECOLLECTIONS 

extempore upon any subject, the orator must begin 
by making himself master of it.^^ 

Mirabeau's voice was full, manly and sonorous ; it 
filled and pleased the ear. Always powerful, yet 
flexible, it could be heard as distinctly when he low- 
ered as when he raised it. He could go through all 
its notes with equal ease and distinctness, and he 
pronounced his finals with so much care that the last 
syllable was never lost. His ordinary manner of 
speaking was very slow. He commenced with the 
appearance of a little embarrassment, often hesitated, 
but in a way to excite interest, and until he became 
animated, he seemed as if he were selecting the most 
agreeable expressions. In his most impassioned mo- 
ments, the feelings which made him dwell upon 
certain words to give them emphasis, prevented him 
from ever speaking rapidly. He had the greatest 
contempt for French volubility and artificial warmth, 
which he termed the thunders and tempests of the. 
opera. He never lost sight of the gravity of a 
senator, and it was a defect, perhaps, that when he 
commenced a speech, there was always a slight 
appearance of preparation and pretension. What 
seems incredible is that little notes written in pencil 
were often handed to him in the tribune, and he had 
the art of reading them whilst he was speaking, and 
embodying their contents in his speech with the 
greatest facility. Garat used to compare him to one 



OF MIRABEAUr 241 

of those jugglers who tear a piece of paper into 
twenty little bits, swallow each bit separately, and at 
last bring forth the original piece whole. He had 
a most miraculous faculty of appropriating whatever 
he heard. A word, a historical fact or a quotation 
uttered in his presence, instantly became his own. 
One day when Barnave, who was very vain of his 
extemporaneous oratory, had just rej^ied without 
preparation to a prepared speech, Champfort, who 
was talking to Mirabeau on the steps of the tribune, 
observed that facility was a fine talent if it were not 
made an improper use of. Mirabeau immediately 
took this proposition for his exordium, and thus be- 
gan : "I have often said that facility was one of the 
finest gifts of nature, if it were not made an impro- 
per use of ; and what I have just heard, does not 
induce me to alter my opinion," &c. 

Among his personal advantages, he counted his 
robust frame, his size, and his strongly marked fea- 
tures seared with small pox. ^^ You know not," said 
he, *^ all the power of my ugliness ;" but he con- 
sidered this ugliness very handsome. He paid the 
greatest attention to his dress, and wore an enormous 
quantity of hair dressed in the fashion of the day, 
and which Considerably increased the size of his 
head. " When I shake my terrible locks," said he, 
''no one dares interrupt me." . . . He was fond of 
standing before a large pier glass, to see himself 
2f 



242 RECOLLECTIOKS 

speak, squaring his shoulders and throwing back his 
head. He had also the mania of those vain men who 
are fond of hearing the sound of their own name, and 
derive pleasure from pronouncing it themselves. 
Thus he would suppose dialogues, and introduce 
himself as one of the speakers ; — as, for instance : 
" The Count de Mirabeau will answer that," &c. 

Mirabeau did not possess, particularly at first, the 
qualities necessary for the leader of a party in a po- 
litical assembly. He was too fond of showing off 
exclusively, of doing every thing himself, and of 
engrossing all the attention. He knew not how to 
flatter the self-love of others, had no general plan, 
took the chance of whatever might occur from one 
day to another, and became formidable to the cote 
droit without gaining the unreserved confidence of 
the cote gauche. Although fond of flourishing about 
his party, he had no legions of his own. He was 
unable to submit to follow up regularly and assidu- 
ously the sittings of the assembly ; he scarcely ever 
attended in the evening, and he depended too much 
upon his own powers, to condescend to consult the 
other deputies, and obtain their approbation before- 
hand. For a considerable period he was quite alone ; 
and he knew nothing of those preparatory tactics by 
which a permanent and solid body of partizans may 
be formed into a popular assembly. But in many 
points, he had much improved. No one knew bet- 



OF MIRABEAU. 243 

ter how to benefit by experience. Reybaz, who 
wrote a great deal for him, and was the author of 
his speeches on the assignats and on many other 
topics, told me, that he had improved prodigiously^ 
during the last six months; that is to say, since he 
had adopted a systematic plan, and aimed at forming, 
in favour of the monarchy, a powerful union against 
the jacobins. 

Much has been said of the venality of Mirabeau ; 
and if some of his detractors are worthy of credit, 
his talents were actually put up to the highest bid- 
der. " Since I have been in the practice of selling 
myself," he would sometimes observe, ^^I ought to 
have gained sufficient to purchase a kingdom ; but I 
know not how it happens, that I have always been 
poor, having at my command so many kings, and all 
their treasures." It may be admitted, that he was 
not over- scrupulous in money matters ; but he was too 
proud to be dishonest, and he would have thrown 
out of the window any one who dared make him a 
humiliating proposal. He received a pension from 
Monsieur^ and subsequently one from the king ; but 
he considered himself an agent entrusted with their 
aifairs, and he accepted those pensions not to be 
governed by, but to govern those who granted them. 
M. de Narbonne told me that he once heard him 
say, " A man like me might accept a hundred thou- 
sand crowns, but I am not to be bought for that sum." 



244 RECOLLECTIONS 

It is possible, however, that this remark was nothing 
more than the effect of the same kind of vanity 
which makes a female opera- dancer find a charm in 
the high price at which her favours are valued. If 
Spain and England did really bribe him, what be- 
came of the sums he received? — How happens it 
that he died insolvent? Although the expenses of 
his establishment were considerable in proportion to 
his means, yet he did not live above the style of a 
man of ordinary opulence. And if he distributed, 
for the king's service, the moneys he received, he can 
no longer be accused of cupidity, for, in that case, he 
was nothing more than the king's banker. 

I imagine that, in this kind of reputation, Mira- 
beau has paid the usury of some offences to others. 
Exaggeration is the first penalty inflicted by the code 
of public opinion. He was so fully aware that, if he 
had enjoyed personal consideration, all France would 
have been at his feet, that there were moments when 
he would have consented to pass "seven times 
through the heated furnace," to purify the name of 
Mirabeau. I have seen him weep with grief, and 
heard him say, almost suffocated with sobs, "I am 
cruelly expiating the errors of my youth !" 

His vanity, which was never at rest, except in the 
intimate intercourse of friendship, rendered him 
more ridiculous than people chose to perceive, when 
he had become a great personage. To his peculiar 



OF MIRABEAU. 245 

foible might be traced the names of several come- 
dies, The Author, The J^oble, The Tribune of the 
People, SfC. He loved praise from all ranks and 
conditions : he was insatiable in this respect, and was 
not sparing of it towards himself, under every form 
which a man of wit and talent could make it assume. 
He was proud of his fencing, of his acting in plays, 
of the manner in which he corrected his proofs, in 
short of every thing. I told him one day, in jest, 
that with regard to praise, he would willingly break- 
fast upon an elephant, and sup upon a flesh-worm ; 
and this joke was near producing a serious quarrel. 
The historian of the revolution will, no doubt, find 
some difficulty in drawing the public character of 
Mirabeau. He was essentially in favour of monar- 
chy, and opposed the great measure by which the 
commons revolutionized France ; that is to say, the 
decree which abolished the orders, and confounded 
them into one national assembly. He afterwards 
maintained the necessity of the absolute veto, be- 
cause, according to his opinion, the king was an inte- 
gral part of the legislative power. It is true, that 
after the royal session of the 21st June, he was the 
first to support the assembly against the king, and 
that such support rendered the crisis decisive. But 
this action must be judged by circumstances then 
existing, and not by the blunders and mishaps which 
afterwards overturned the throne. What I have 



246 RECOLLECTIONS 

before stated on this subject sufficiently shows, that 
at this period, the triumph of a party was to be 
feared, who wanted to dissolve the assembly, and 
destroy all hopes of national freedom. The measure 
adopted by the king had been so badly prepared, 
that it alarmed the whole nation, and if Mirabeau is 
blamed on this account, the same blame must attach 
to all France. 

Mirabeau was desirous of giving to his country a 
constitution as nearly resembling that of England as 
local circumstances would admit. But it must be 
allowed, that his passions, his thirst of popularity, the 
weakness of the court — particularly in the disbelief 
that he might be of use — M. Necker's mistrust, and 
the king's repugnance, threw him out of his direct 
course, and made him, in his political career, describe 
an irregular and tortuous curved line, which it is 
impossible to connect with any single plan, but in 
which the perseverance and firmness characteristic 
of a great citizen, are always visible. Had he lived, 
it is probable that he would not only have constrained, 
but overthrown the jacobins, and that in the revision 
of the constitution, he would have exercised un- 
bounded influence. He would have given strength 
to the executive, and, above all, prevented the pass- 
ing of the absurd decree whereby the members of 
the assembly, by declaring themselves ineligible a 
second time, abandoned their work whilst it was yet 



OF MIRABEAU. 247 

too weak to support itself without their assistance. — 
He had previously caused the failure of two attempts 
to carry the same decree, oue made by the aristo- 
cratSj and the other by the cote gauche. 

Mirabeau is the only man of whom it may be 
thought, that if Providence had spared his life, the 
destinies of France would have taken another course. 
His death gave courage to all the factious. Robes- 
pierre, Petion and others, who dwindled into insig- 
nificance before him, immediately became great men. 

Mirabeau himself may be termed, not a great, but 
an extraordinary man. As a writer, he does not be- 
long to the first class; as an orator, he is below 
Cicero, Demosthenes, Pitt and Fox. Most of his 
writings are already forgotten, and his speeches, 
with few exceptions, have no longer any interest. 
The characteristic trait of his genius, consists in his 
political sagacity, in his anticipation of events, and 
in his knowledge of mankind; all of which, he ap- 
pears, to me, to have displayed in a more remarkable 
degree than any other power of his vigorous mind. 
There were moments when he declared he felt him- 
self a prophet ; and, in truth, he seemed to have in- 
spirations of futurity. His sayings were not attended 
to, because others could not see so far, and because 
his forebodings were attributed to disappointed am- 
bition. But I know that, at the very period when 
he prognosticated the downfall of the monarchy, he 



248 RECOLLECTIONS 

had the most glorious anticipations of the future des- 
tinies of his country. It may be seen, in his letter 
to Major Mauvillon, that he considered France as 
able to resist all Europe ; and his correspondence 
contains many singular passages showing the wide 
range of his political horizon. In 1782, he met our 
Genevese exiles at Neufchatel, and spoke to them of 
the states-general in France as of an event that could 
not fail of success. *^ I shall be a deputy," he said, 
" and will restore your country to freedom". . . . No 
one felt, as he did, the consequences of the royal 
session, or penetrated so acutely into the views of the 
commons. I remember two truly prophetic speeches 
in which he pointed out all the evils of their separa- 
tion from the king. ^^You will have massacres," 
said he in one of his speeches, "you will have butch- 
ering — but you will not have even the execrable 
honour of a civil war !" His uneasiness, during the 
cruel malady that carried him off so rapidly, is well 
known. <^ I take with me," said he to the bishop 
of Autun, ^^ the last shreds of the monarchy." It 
was by the same instinctive penetration that he so 
easily detected the feelings of the assembly, and so 
often embarrassed his opponents by revealing their 
secret motives, and laying open that which they 
were most anxious to conceal. There seemed to 
exist no political enigma which he could not solve. 
He came at once to the most intimate secrets, and 



OF MIRABEAU. 249 

his sagacity alone was of more use to him than a mul- 
titude of spies in the enemy's camp. I used some- 
times to attribute the severity of his judgments to 
hatred or jealousy ; but it has been justified by 
succeeding events, and there was not a man of any 
consequence in the assembly, the sum of whose con- 
duct did not correspond with the opinion which 
Mirabeau had formed of him. 

Independently of this natural gift, this intellect of 
penetration, his life had been so agitated, he had been 
so tossed upoftthe sea of human existence, as he used 
to say, that he had acquired vast experience of the 
world and of men. He detected, in a moment, every 
shade of character ; and to express the result of his 
observations, he had invented a language scarcely 
intelligible to any but himself; had terms to indicate 
fractions of talents, qualities, virtues or vices — halves 
and quarters — and, at a glance, he could perceive 
every real or apparent contradiction. No form of 
vanity, disguised ambition, or tortuous proceedings, 
could escape his penetration; but he could also per- 
ceive good qualities, and no man had a higher es- 
teem for energetic and virtuous characters. He 
possessed, within him, an intuitive enthusiasm for that 
which is great and noble, and he suffered it not to be 
degraded by his own vices. It was like a looking- 
glass which might be tarnished with the breath, but 

immediately resumed its brightness. Though his 
2 G 



250 RECOLLECTIONS 

conduct was often in contradiction with what he pro- 
fessedj it arose not from hypocrisy, but thoughtless- 
ness. He had a purity of reason which elevated his 
soul, and violent passions which again dragged it 
down and degraded it. In a word, he was a colossus 
in every respect, and there was in him a great deal 
of good, and a great deal of evil : no one could know 
him without feeling a strong interest towards him, 
and he was a man born to fill a great sphere with his. 
prodigious activity. 



OF MIRABEAU. 251 



CHAPTER XV. 



I INTEND to place here, some detached anecdotes as 
they occur to my memory. 

Mirabeau was fond of conferring nick-names, taken 
from well known names in history. This was an 
energetic mode of painting characters by the associa- 
tion of a single word. Voltaire had set the example ; 
he had called the king of Prussia Alaric-Cottin, 
Mirabeau often designated Sieyes by the name of 
Mahomet, particularly at the period when the latter 
governed the commons, he called d'Espremenil, 
Crispin- Catalina, to show the ridicule of his con- 
spiracies. The rigid Camus obtained the appellation 
of Drapeau-JRouge or red flag, in allusion to the red 
flag of the martial law, because he had a fiery coun- 
tenance with a blood- coloured nose. 

" He would fain be a Grandison- Cromwell,'' said 
he, alluding to M. de Lafayette, whom he looked 
upon as an ambitious man without power, " and would 
coquet with the supreme authority without daring to 



252 EECOLLECTIONS 

seize it, or indeed possessing the means of doing so." 
His hatred in this particular instance made him un- 
just. He also said of Lafayette, "he has made a 
good leap and fallen backwards;" — alluding to his 
not keeping up the high reputation he had gained in 
America. He accused him, besides, of desiring only 
the glory of gazettes. M. de Narbonne said that 
Lafayette had every great quality, but something 
was wanting in each. However, Mirabeau gave him 
credit for his sang-froid. "He has always pos- 
sessed," said he, ^^ the same degree of talent as he 
possesses now."* 

Washington was mentioned; his wisdom, the just 
proportions of his different qualities, and his general 
character. Mirabeau did him justice, but said 
that in his place, after having terminated the Ame- 
rican revolution, he would have collected an array of 
adventurers and attempted the almost certain conquest 
of Spanish America. The fact is, that Mirabeau was 
incapable of enjoying, in peace and retirement, the 

* Knowing the great esteem entertained by M. Dumont for 
the character and talents of M. de Lafayette, I would have 
omitted this paragraph, had I not feared the reproach of garb- 
ling a manuscript confided to me. Many persons who had 
read the manuscript during the author's life time, might have 
fancied that more serious alterations had taken place, had they 
missed this opinion of Mirabeau on one of the men who does 
the most honour to his country. — Note hy the Genevese Editor. 



OF MIRABEAU. 253 

noble existence of a public man after his labours ; he 
had no conception of otium cu?n dignitate. 

Of M. Necker, he said, "he is like a clock that 
always goes too slow." The connection we had en- 
deavoured to bring about between him and M. 
Necker was not successful ; for the latter did not 
perceive the use he might be of, and was afraid to 
trust him. Necker v/ould fain apply to his political 
connections the same delicacy as in a marriage, or a 
private transaction. He was acquainted with the age 
in which he lived, and Mirabeau judged him weak 
and powerless, considering him but a pigmy in the 
revolution. " Mallebranche saw every thing in 
God," said he, " but Necker sees every thing in 
Necker." He accused him of seeing the whole 
kingdom in the Rue Vivienne ; that is to say in the 
state of the funds and of the treasury.* 

* M. Necker evinced the pru'^lery of an honest man in de- 
clining the acquaintance of a roue, as he considered Mirabeau. 
He has even denied this commencement of acquaintance. I 
was mentioning the circumstance to the archbishop of Bor- 
deaux, who assured me that I was mistaken. " 1 know," said 
the prelate, " from M. Necker himself, that he only saw Mira- 
beau twice; it was at Versailles, and these interviews related 
solely to the affairs of Geneva." "He demanded a confer- 
ence," said Necker, " and I could not refuse it." It is true 
that the affairs of Geneva had been the ostensible, but not the 
real object. What weakness in a man of sense ! — Notes hy 
Dumont. 



254 RECOLLECTIONS 

He said that Claviere was a man in head, and a 
child in heart. He always wanted a regulator ; left 
to himself, he never ceased to vary. 

I have forgotten the name of a member of the 
assembly, who had at first .been used as a speaking- 
trumpet, and who one day delivered a speech very 
superior to his own talents, and which had been 
written for him. This deputy Mirabeau termed the 
Merry- Andrew of eloquence. 

Having one day seen an emblem of time armed 
with a scythe and clepsydra, he alluded to it at the 
national assembly, and said, ^^we have taken the 
scythe, but not the clock." 

He said of the national assembly, "it has Hanni- 
bals enough, it only wants a Fabius." 

Speaking of the allusions which having once gov- 
erned men, were for ever destroyed, he said, ^^ we 
have long been looking with a magic lantern, but the 
glass is now broken." 

^'When a pond is full," said he, "a single mole, 
by piercing the bank, may cause an inundation." 

He could not bear that praise should be bestowed 
on mediocre talents ; for that is one of the secrets of 
envy to debase men of superior genius. He loved 
to repeat a saying of mine. I am not a man of ban- 
mots, nor is it a bon-mot that I am about to relate. 
" We call Clermont-Tonnere, the French Pitt," said 
some one, desirous of lowering Mirabeau. ^^ Be it 



OF MIRABEAU. 255 

so/^ I replied, ^^but I should like to know whether 
Mr Pitt would be flattered at being termed the Eng- 
lish Clerraont-Tonnere." 

Mirabeau used to relate, with great glee, an anec- 
dote of his brother. The Viscount de Mirabeau was 
a very fat and heavy man ; the people called him 
Tun-Mirabeau. One evening, going to pay his 
court to Mesdames the king's aunts, the usher of the 
chamber, deceived by the darkness of the corridor 
and the heavy walk of the viscount, mistook him for 
Monsieur^ the king's brother, whose gait was very 
similar, and announced him as such. ^^ Monsieur, ^^ 
said he, throwing open the door of the apartment. 
*'0h! it is only Monsieur, brother of King Mira- 
beau," said the viscount, and the courtly circle 
laughed heartily at an allusion which was not entirely 
devoid of truth. 

Mirabeau, dining one day with the Count de 
Montmorrin, was asked by the latter what he 
thought of his brother. "He would be," replied 
Mirabeau, "a man of wit and a scapegrace in any 
family but ours." The viscount was not behind- 
hand with him in epigrams. The friends of Tun- 
Mirabeau, reproaching him with having one evening 
attended the assembly almost in a state of intoxication, 
he replied, "My brother has left me only that one 
vice." 

Doubts have been entertained of Mirabeau's per- 



256 RECOLLECTIONS 

sonal courage ; because he had wisely determined to 
decline every duel, during the sittings of the national 
assembly. ^^ They can procure as many bullies as 
they like," he said, " and thus, by duels, get rid of 
every one who opposes them. For if a man kills 
ten of the. fellows, he may fall by the hand of the 
eleventh." He was always armed with pistols, and 
so were his servants. He feared assassination, but 
without any good ground, for no attempt was ever 
made upon his life. And who indeed would have 
dared to commit so dangerous a crime, knowing his 
immense popularity ! One evening at Versailles, 
having left us at about eleven o^clock, he returned 
some minutes after in manifest agitation. He was 
attended by one of his servants, who had stopped 
him in the street and pointed out a man, wrapped 
up in a cloak, apparently lying in wait. We went 
out with him to see who it could be. The suspi- 
cious individual was still in the same place. He al- 
lowed himself to be accosted. " Pray, sir," said 
Mirabeau, ^^may I ask what you are doing here at 
this late hour?" — '^ Sir," replied the stranger, "I 
am waiting for my master, who is in a neighbouring 
house," — "and may I ask, why you have a sword 
under your cloak?" — " Because my master gives it 
to me when he enters that house, and resumes it on 
coming out." After this, we easily saw that the 
adventure was not a sinister one, and having escorted 



OF MIRABEAU. 257 

Mirabeau to his own door^ returned home without 
any suspicious encounter. 

Mirabeau's servants were much attached to him. 
I went with him to the Bastile a few days after its 
capture; we visited every accessible part of the for- 
tress, and descended to a dungeon, into which Mi- 
rabeau's servant was not allowed to follow us. The 
poor fellow burst into tears, and conjured me to keep 
an eye upon his master^ who might otherwise be 
killed in the dungeon. The idea of the Bastile was 
associated in the minds of the people with the most 
sinister ideas, and the dead body of the monster 
still threw them into an agony of fear. 

I forgot to mention this visit to the Bastile in its 
proper place. It was a triumphal procession for 
Mirabeau. The crowd in the Rue St Antoine and 
the adjacent parts, opened to afford him a passage. 
Poetry and flowers were thrown over him, and his 
carriage was filled with books and manuscripts, taken 
from the fortress during the first two or three days 
subsequent to its fall. I was put in possession of 
some of the most curious, which remained in my 
charge two or three months ; but the committee at 
the Hotel-de-Ville, who published the reports, called 
upon such persons as had any of these manuscripts 
to deliver them up. Mine contained an account of 
a series of imprisonments which took place at the end 
of the reign of Louis XV. and the beginning of that of 
2 H 



258 RECOLLECTIONS 

Louis XVI. I felt a scruple of conscience in retain- 
ing them, and therefore forwarded them to the com- 
mittee. 

Mirabeau had a valet-de-chambre^ whose name 
was Teutch. This man had been a smuggler, and 
had performed prodigies of valour without even sus- 
pecting that he had done any thing extraordinary. 
" How these freebooters debase courage," once ob- 
served Mirabeau ; " the greatest intrepidity is the 
inheritance of the basest of men?" Teutch's per- 
sonal services lasted a long time, for Mirabeau was 
very recherche in his toilet, and moreover, sometimes 
amused himself with kicking and thumping Teutch, 
who considered these rough caresses as marks of 
friendship. When, from occupation or some other 
cause, several days had elapsed without any such 
tokens being given, poor Teutch was very sad, and 
his service seemed to weigh heavily upon him. 
"What is the matter, Teutch?" said his master one 
day; "you look very melancholy." — " Monsieur le 
Comte neglects me quite." — "How? what do you 
mean?" said Mirabeau. "Monsieur le Comte has 
not taken any notice of me for this week past. Thus 
it was really a necessary act of humanity to give him 
now and then a good blow in the stomach ; and if he 
were knocked down, he laughed heartily and was 
quite delighted. The despair of this man at Mira- 
beau's death is inconceivable. Mirabeau's secretary, 



OF MIRABEAU. 259 

also, thought proper to carry his affliction a degree 
beyond that of the public, and in his grief, inflicted 
upon himself several stabs with a penknife, of which, 
however, he took good care not to die. 

Mirabeau had a son five or six years old, whose 
mother I never knew. This poor boy was loved and 
neglected by his father. ^^ That child," said Mira- 
beau, by way of praise, "has a ferocious heart." 
He thought that every thing connected with the 
blood of a Mirabeau, must needs be extraordinary. 
Finding the poor child very much neglected, I 
caressed and fondled him, and was much surprised 
at seeing this pretended ferocious little animal take 
my hands, not to bite, but to kiss them. He appear- 
ed to me of an amiable disposition, and might easily 
have been managed with a little affectionate care. 
The father did for his child as for himself, he stole 
the smart sayings of other children to attribute them 
to his, and it was perhaps in this way that he had 
himself been accustomed in his youth to live upon 
the property of others as if it were his own. 

Mirabeau had imbibed much regard and esteem 
for Cabanis, then a very young physician, but who 
was amiable, witty, and had a most unbounded admi- 
ration for him. He trusted Cabanis from friendship, 
and was delighed at being able to contribute to his 
reputation. In his last illness, Mirabeau would have 
no other physician, although the danger was manifest ; 



260 RECOLLECTIONS 

for he was anxious to show Cabanis that he did not 
doubt his abilities, and desirous of giving him the 
full credit of his cure. Cabanis published an account 
of Mirabeau's illness, and a copy of his will. I was 
then at Geneva. From this expose^ our best practi- 
tioners were of opinion that, from the second day, the 
physician mistook the complaint, and lost his pre- 
sence of mind ; that the charge, in short, had been 
too much for him. Two years after, I ascertained 
that the physicians of Edinburgh were of the same 
opinion. They did not say that his death had been 
caused by the mode of treatment, but that nothing 
had been done to effect a cure ; in a word, that the 
disorder, which is distinctly described in a work of 
Cabanis, had not been treated at all. There was not 
the slightest appearance of poison ; and that idea 
was therefore deemed totally unfounded. The com- 
plaint was acute enteritis, brought on by excesses. 
Even the actresses at the opera sought the glory of 
captivating this Hercules, who, trusting to the 
strength of his constitution, gave himself up, without 
restraint, to every kind of pleasure. 

The bishop of Autun, who saw much of him dur- 
ing his last illness, which lasted only four or five days, 
told me that as soon as the fits of dreadfully acute pain 
were over, he would resume his serenity, his mild- 
ness and his amiable attentions to those about him. 
He was the same to the last moment. He pet-ceived 



OF MIRABEAU. 261 

that he was an object of general interest j and did not 
for a moment cease speaking and acting as if he were 
a great and noble actor performing his part. He 
dramatised his deaths was the happy expression of the 
bishop of Autun. In the extreme agony of convul- 
sions, and covered with a chilly perspiration, there 
were moments when it required more than the force 
of a philosopher to support life. "I shall suffer," 
he would mildly say, " so long as you have the least 
hopes of my cure : but if you tiave no longer any, 
have the humanity to put an end to my sufferings, 
of which you can form no idea.^' After one of these 
violent attacks, which had overcome his fortitude, 
and forced him to groan aloud, he called for his pa- 
pers, and having selected a speech upon willsy 
" There 1" said he to the bishop of Autun, ^^ these 
are the last thoughts the world will have of mine. I 
deposit this manuscript with you ; read it when I 
am no more ; it is my legacy to the assembly." This 
speech on wills was, to my knowledge, written by M. 
Reybaz. It is done with great care, and its style is 
not at all like that of Mirabeau. It is a remarkable 
fact that, on his very death bed, Mirabeau preserved 
his thirst for artificial fame, when he had so much 
personal glory that his reputation required not to be 
decked with the laurels of others.* 

* A speech on the slave trade disappeared from among his 
papers. It was written by three or four different hands and 



262 RECOLLECTIONS 

Had I not lived with Mirabeau, I never should 
have knovi^n all that can be done in one day, or 
rather in an interval of twelve hours. A day to him 
was of more value than a week or a month to others. 
The business which he carried on simultaneously 
was prodigious, from the conception of a project to 
its execution, there was no time lost. To-morrow 
was not to him the same im poster as to most other 
men. Conversation alone could seduce him from his 
labours, and even that he converted into a means of 
work ; for it was always at the end of some conversa- 
tion that active labour was begun, and writings pre- 
pared. He read little ; but he read with great 
rapidity, and discovered at a glance whatever was 
new and interesting in a book. Writings were 
copied in his house with prodigious quickness. As 
fast as a speech changed its form by corrections or 
additions, he had fresh copies of it made. This la- 
bour sometimes proved too much for those who 

Mirabeau had himself worked at it with affection. I recollect 
a beautiful image which he had thrown into a description : " Let 
us follow upon the Atlantic, that ship laden with captives, or 
rather that long coffin" &c. Impatient of applause, he read 
this speech at the jacobins' club, where he produced such an 
effect, that the persons interested in slave dealing united all 
their strength to prevent the subject from being discussed in the 
assembly. They were afraid lest Mirabeau's speech should, by 
a decree of enthusiasm, lead to the immediate abolition of the 
slave trade. — Note by Dumont. 



OF MIRABEAU. 263 

undertook it ; but his haste of temper was known, 
and he must be obeyed. " Monsieur le Comte,"said 
his secretary to him one day, '^ the thing you require 
is impossible." — "Impossible!" exclaimed Mira- 
beau, starting from his chair ; " never again use that 
foolish word in my presence I" 

Mirabeau, in connecting himself with the court 
during the last six months of his life, had no other 
object than to become a minister. To attain this, it 
became necessary to revoke several decrees of the 
assembly. The project of a counter-revolution has 
been attributed to him, during this period. I am 
not aware of such a thing. His hatred and contempt 
of the constituent assembly rendered it indeed pro- 
bable ; but the experience he had acquired leads to 
the supposition that he would have undertaken 
nothing rashly. I am persuaded that he was desi- 
rous of restoring the royal authority ; but I am con- 
fident that he would have insisted upon a constitution 
similar to that of England, and never sanctioned any 
plan of which the national representation did not 
constitute the basis. He was favourable to an aristo- 
cracy, because he considered it essential to a monar- 
chy ; and the decree abolishing titles of nobility is 
one which he would have caused to be revoked. 

Bouille's memoirs leave no doubt of Mirabeau's 
connection with the court, from the beginning of 
1791. The king, in his letter to Bouille, writes in 



364 RECOLLECTIONS 

allusion to Mirabeau and some others, " Although 
these men are not respectable characters, and I have 
paid an enormous price for the services of the first, 
yet I think they may be of some use to me ; and it 
seems advisable to adopt certain parts of their plan." 
This plan was to dissolve the assembly, by the force 
and will of the nation itself, by getting up addresses 
from the departments ; and that, without having re- 
course to foreign armies, or destroying the people's 
hopes of freedom — for a new assembly was to be 
convoked forthwith. This plan, therefore, does not 
warrant Mirabeau's being considered as a traitor to 
the popular cause, he was too able a tactician for that. 
He well knew that all his power lay in the public 
opinion, and that by restoring absolute power to the 
king, he should destroy himself. 

All his ambition was centered in the idea of be- 
coming prime minister of France ; and he thought 
that he should eclipse every minister who had pre- 
ceded him. He felt himself powerful enough to 
attract within the sphere of his patronage every man 
of distinguished abilities, and he would, he said, 
compose a halo of talents whose brightness should 
dazzle Europe. 



OF MIRABEAU. 265 



CHAPTER XVI. 



In May 1791, I returned from Geneva, and went 
to reside with Biddermann the Swiss banker, one of 
my intimate friends. His house was the rendezvous 
of several members of the assembly, and Claviere, 
Brissot and Reybaz were among his guests. I seldom 
went to the assembly, which no longer interested me 
now Mirabeau was no more. It was occupied about 
the municipalities, the assignats, &c. The influence 
of the jacobins had increased, for the death of Mi- 
rabeau had freed them from their most powerful an- 
tagonist. Ambitious subalterns could now with 
safety try their mediocre powers of eloquence. 

The king had gone to the assembly, and, without 
being called upon, had renewed the oath to be faith- 
ful to the constitution and co-operate in its establish- 
ment. A fortnight after, he escaped one evening 
from the palace, after having eluded the vigilance of 
Lafayette and his guards. The secret had been so 

well kept that not the least suspicion was raised. 
3i 



266 RECOLLECTIONS 

D'Andre would not, at first, believe it, although in- 
formed of it at six o'clock in the morning, by one of 
his friends, a valet- de-chambre at the palace. Every 
one was in blind security ; for it seemed impossible 
to elude the watchfulness of so many individuals. 

The assembly proved worthy of itself on this oc- 
casion. The cote droit, uneasy in the midst of Paris, 
feared to testify their joy ; the cote gauche, alarmed 
at an event which seemed to presage civil war, re- 
solved to act with prudence. Prompt and quiet 
measures were taken to bring back the monarch ; 
and the occurrence was mentioned in the assembly 
as the effect of a conspiracy against the king himself 
— as a forcible abduction, of which the nation would 
soon be avenged. Pains were taken to keep the 
people quiet, and the public works went on, as if no 
change had occurred, and the king only gone on an 
excursion of pleasure. In this moderation may be 
traced the effect of strong contending passions acting 
upon and containing each other ; and it proves that 
the majority was composed of honest and enlightened 
men capable of calculating all the consequences of 
their actions ; and who would not risk the peace of 
their country. If the king had not been taken, it 
is very probable that this majority of the assembly 
.would have treated with him and satisfied him on the 
principal points of which he complained. The Pa- 
risians seemed inspired, on this occasion, with supe- 



OF MIRABEAU. 267 

rior wisdom, and were as quiet as possible. Nothing 
was heard but jests upon the royal family ; bitter 
jests, it is true, and which but too clearly indicated 
that this family had forfeited all respect and confi- 
dence. '^ The traitor is unmasked ? This then is 
the result of his oaths ; these are his courtly protes- 
tations ! We were great fools to believe that a king 
could love freedom and forego the pleasures of des- 
potism!" I heard such remarks in every public 
place. There was not a term of degradation that 
the people did not apply to the king, but with the 
greatest sang-froid^ and unaccompanied with tumult. 
A few hours after the king's flight, every sign of roy- 
alty disappeared, one after the other. Whatever bore 
the name of the king or any other member of the 
royal family, was pulled down ; for the people would 
not leave any thing standing which was calculated to 
remind them of a king who had violated his oath. 
The most libellous songs enlivened the streets, and 
in a few hours every one had found out that a king 
was not at all necessary. Levity, fickleness and in- 
consistency are the characteristics of the people of 
Paris. "If the king leaves us,'' said they gaily, 
" the nation remains. A nation may exist without 
a king, but not a king without a nation." Surely, if 
the king supposed that his departure would throw 
the multitude into consternation, he must have been 
astonished at the general indifference. Reliance 



268 RECOLLECTIONS 

upon the assembly seemed the prevailing sentiment. 
At first M. de Lafayette was in danger, being con- 
sidered an accomplice ; but when it became known 
that he had been deluded by the court, his popular- 
ity increased. "There is our stumbling-block gone," 
was written to me by an individual, who rendered 
thanks to heaven that the king had thus abdicated 
the throne. 

The famous Paine was at this time at Paris, and 
very intimate in Condorcet's family. He thought he 
had effected the revolution in America, and fancied 
himself called upon to bring about another in France. 

The whim of writing upon these subjects seized 
me; I had an idea of making the shade of Mirabeau 
speak ; and I anticipated a secret pleasure from hear- 
ing the observations of the public upon a work bear- 
ing his name. I began with some degree of success, 
and felt inspired by the subject. I represented the 
king's flight as a conspiracy of the court party ; I 
called upon the people to give an imposing and ma- 
jestic strength to the national assembly, and I pressed 
the assembly itself to declare that it would always 
support the king ; and that when it had delivered 
him from his captivity, it would bring to condign 
punishment the conspirators who had violated the 
national dignity. I apostrophised the king, and 
pointed out to him the misfortune of a prince whom a 
base faction would fain oblige to conquer his people, 



OF MIRABEAU. 269 

and render himself an odious tyrant. I flattered my- 
self that I had conjured up the shade of Mirabeau to 
some purpose, and imparted to it language and sen- 
timents which Mirabeau himself would not have 
disavowed, when Duchatelet called upon me. After 
a short preamble, he put into my hand an English 
manuscript, in the form of a proclamation to the 
French people. It was nothing less than a manifesto 
against royalty, and it called upon the nation to seize 
the opportunity, and become a republic. Paine was 
the author of it. Duchatelet was determined to 
adopt and put his name to it, to placard it on the 
walls of Paris and stand to the consequences. He 
came to request that I would translate it and add 
some necessary developments. I began by discuss- 
ing with him this strange proposal 5 and pointed out 
the danger of raising the standard of republicanism 
without the concurrence of the national assembly. 
Nothing was yet known of the king's intentions or 
means ; how he was supported, or what were his alli- 
ances, his army, and the assistance he would receive 
from the provinces. I asked Duchatelet whether 
he had consulted with any of the most influential 
men, such as Sieyes, Lafayette, and others ? He 
had not; he acted alone. Paine and he, the one an 
American, the other a young thoughtless member 
of the French nobility, put themselves forward to 
change the whole system of government in France. 



270 RECOLLECTIONS 

I resisted all his entreaties, and peremptorily refused 
to translate his proclamation. In vain did he urge 
that I shared none of the responsibility; that whe- 
ther I acceded to his wishes or not, the thing would 
be done, and that I might as well assist him as a 
friend, and blame him, at the same time, if I thought 
proper. I afterwards congratulated myself on hav- 
ing remained inflexible, and for fear of evil conse- 
quences to myself, I determined to make Mirabeau 
return to the tomb. Next day, the republican pro- 
clamation, signed Duchatelet, appeared on the walls 
in every part of Paris, and was denounced to the 
assembly. The idea of a republic had presented 
itself to no one, and the first intimation of such a 
thing filled the cote droit and the moderates of the 
cote gauche with consternation. Mallouet, Cazales, 
and several others, proposed that the author should 
be prosecuted ; but Chapelier, backed by a numerous 
party, fearful of adding fuel to the fire instead of 
extinguishing it, moved the order of the day, on the 
plea that the proposal was an absurdity and the 
author a madman. 

I owe it to truth to declare, that Duchatelet 
sounded many persons, and was listened to by none ; 
that Sieyes refused his concurrence in terms of the 
greatest contempt ; that several individuals urged 
that the time for a republic was not yet come, and 
that Lafayette, in particular, repulsed all those who 






OF MIR A BEAU. 271 

spoke to him on the subject, and declared, if I am 
rightly informed, that it required at least twenty- 
years more to bring freedom to maturity in France. 
But some of the seed thrown out by the audacious 
hand of Paine, began to bud forth in the minds of 
many leading individuals. Since the flight of the 
king, Condorcet had become a determined republi- 
can; Claviere, Petion, and Brissot met to discuss 
the question ; it was also mentioned at Bidderman's, 
and I saw the formation of the first filaments of 
republicanism which became so rapidly developed 
in the southern provinces. The following was the 
reasoning of the different committees : " The king 
has forfeited the public confidence, which he can 
never recover. The nation can never forget his 
flight after such positive oaths freely taken. He 
cannot himself forget that he has been brought back 
by force, and that he reigns by mere sufferance over 
a people who despise him either as a weak man or as 
a traitor. The elements of the monarchy are de- 
stroyed, for the king can no longer appear but as a 
conspirator ; and nothing would be more absurd than 
to confide high powers in the constitution to one who 
has declared himself its enemy." 

Though these arguments were very strong against 
the king personally, they were weak against royalty 
in the abstract. No line between the person and 
the office was drawn, because it presented a difficulty 



272 RECOLLECTIONS 

which could not then be solved^ except by placing 
some other member of the royal family upon the 
throne. This alternative pleased none of the indi- 
viduals I have named, for the Duke of Orleans, the 
only prince who could have been selected, was con- 
sidered too despicable. 

It was further urged, that for two years past, it 
was the assembly who had governed, and not the 
king. The obstacles had all proceeded from the 
latter, the resources from the former. At length 
Condorcet said, "If a republic were formed by a 
revolution, and the people rose against the court, the 
consequences would be terrible ; but if a republic be 
formed at present, whilst the assembly is all-powerful, 
the passage from monarchy to republicanism will not 
be difficult; and it is much better that it should take 
place now when the king, from the situation in 
which he has placed himself, is reduced to nothing, 
than when sufficient power has been restored to him 
to render his overthrow an effort." As for royalty 
itself, it was looked upon as a bugbear for children 
and a plaything for men. 

Whilst the assembly were discussing the steps to 
be taken with regard to the king's conduct, these 
new republicans were desirous that he should be 
brought to trial, his abdication proclaimed, and 
France boldly declared a republic. 

The opinion of persons with whom I was intimate 



OF MIRABEAU. 273 

had an influence upon mine ; but after all, it was but 
an opinion, and one which raised constant doubts in 
my mind. I found great interest in attending their 
meetings and listening to the discussion of a subject 
of such vast importance. I remember one day, 
having met at Petion's to determine upon a motion 
to be made in the assembly upon the king's return ; 
Petion was playing the violin, and Brissot became 
seriously angry at such indifference and frivolity at 
a moment when the fate of the monarchy was to be 
decided upon. Petion had been deputed, with 
Barnave, to go and fetch the king at Varennes. It 
is certain that this honour had not changed him. 
Barnave, he informed us, was like a provincial 
bourgeois, struck with surprise and admiration at 
finding himself in the same carriage with the king. 
As for Petion himself — and I attribute it more to his 
insensibility than to his magnanimity — he was not 
even moved with compassion for a prince fallen from 
his greatness, and felt no personal vanity ; or rather, 
one species of pride had contended with another. 
The self-love of Petion, who was looking for popular 
honours, had rendered him insensible to courtly 
honours. As a courtier of the people, he despised 
the courtiers of the king. He thought that the pop- 
ular favour led to power, and the royal favour to 
nothing at all. He was one of those men who can 

dispense with fortune, because they require no luxu- 
2k 



274 RECOLLECTIONS 

ries. I believe him to have been incorruptible in 
money matters ; but there are so many other sources 
of corruption 1 

Brissot was more disiaterested, but fanatical and 
obstinate. I will speak of him more largely here- 
after. He had many noble qualities, but they were 
corrupted by party spirit and degenerated into vices ; 
though a man formed to do good, he became the tool 
of evil. 

I had a high opinion of Condorcet, whose judgment 
influenced that of many others. The friends who 
met at his house, formed the true nucleus of the re- 
public* It was said that Madame Condorcet had 
been treated contemptuously by the queen, and that 
her republican zeal originated in a woman's ven- 
geance. But I do not believe it. Madame Condor- 

* The greatest misfortunes in France originated perhaps in 
the republic having arisen from a storm, instead of being formed 
with deliberation. I do not mean to assert that a good republic 
might have been made for France ; only that the same spirit 
which deprived the king of his authority would have prevented 
him from resuming or maintaining it ; and it is in this point of 
view alone that Condorcet and his followers ought to be judged. 
He was not a jacobin ; he perceived what the jacobins wanted, 
and urged t!ie formation of a republic by the assembly, to pre- 
vent one from being established by the populace. The most 
inconsistent were they who, like Sieyes, not being republicans, 
did not cease their attacks upon the feeble remains of royal 
authority. — Note hy Dumunt. 






OF MIRABEAU. 275 

cet owed her love of republicanism to her own 
serious character, to a mind fond of philosophical 
meditation, to the reading of republican works, and 
to her passion for the writings of Rousseau. Her 
husband had an enthusiasm of reflection; she, of 
sentiment. Both felt convinced that freedom could 
never flourish in France, and spring up to a goodly 
tree, under the shadow of a throne. Paine had 
given them false notions of England, which I often 
combated in vain. America seemed to them the 
model of a good government, and they considered 
it easy to introduce the system of federalism into 
France. 

Robespierre was so alarmed at the king's flight, 
that he had hid himself two whole days, and intend- 
ed to proceed for safety to Marseilles. On the 
king's return, he began to listen to Brissot and Pe- 
tion, but with much reserve at first ; and he contin- 
ued to undermine the monarchy without declaring 
himself in favour of a republic. 

From what I have stated, it is evident that the 
first republicans were not creatures of the duke of 
Orleans, as has been asserted. They were indepen- 
dent men, and I see not what moral reproach they 
incurred whilst their opinion remained only an opin- 
ion. The king's departure was proof clear enough 
that the court would never be reconciled to the con- 



276 RECOLLECTIONS 

stitution, upon which the people then founded all 
their hopes of liberty. 

Several members of the assembly, however, came 
to a more prudent way of thinking. They readily 
conceived that a humane and virtuous monarch 
might, by the endless humiliations inflicted upon him, 
be driven to an act of despair. From that time, La- 
fayette began to fear the jacobins more than the 
royalists. Duport, Barnave and the Lameths per- 
ceived the necessity of again supporting the monarch 
and attaching him to the constitution, by an interest 
common to both. They therefore pursued a new 
plan ; but having found it easier to destroy than to 
re-establish, they lost, as moderates, the popularity 
which they had acquired as factious men. 

I remained at Paris but a few days after the king's 
return. My fellow travellers to London were the 
celebrated Paine and Lord Daer, a young Scotchman, 
mad after liberty and republicanism — an honest and 
virtuous enthusiast, who thought that, by transplant- 
ing the principles of the French revolution into his 
own country, he should be rendering it the greatest 
service. I had met Paine five or six times before, 
and I could easily excuse, in an American, his pre- 
judices against England. But his egregious conceit 
and presumptuous self-sufficiency quite disgusted me. 
He was drunk with vanity. If you believed him, it 



OF MIRABEAU. 277 

was he who had done every thing in America. He 
was an absolute caricature of the vainest of French- 
men. He fancied that his book upon the Rights 
of Man ought to be substituted for every other book 
in the world ; and he told us roundly that, if it were 
in his power to annihilate every library in existence, 
he would do so without hesitation, in order to eradi- 
cate the errors they contained, and commence, with 
the Rights of Man, a new era of ideas and principles. 
He knew all his own writings by heart, but he knew 
nothing else. He repeated to us even love letters of 
his composition, written in the most fantastic style. 
They were the effusions of his youth, and worthy of 
Mascarillo. Yet Paine was a man of talent, full of 
imagination, gifted with popular eloquence, and wield- 
ed, not without skill, the weapon of irony. My 
curiosity concerning this celebrated writer was more 
than satisfied during this journey, and I saw him no 
more. 

My friends forwarded to me in London, the first 
four numbers of the JRepublican, a periodical work 
to which I had promised to become a contributor.* 

* I wrote, for this republican journal, an article which was 
published in the two first numbers, after my departure, but with 
such changes and mutilations that I no longer recognized it as 
my own. These alterations consisted in additions, suppressions 
and expressions injurious to the king, all which were not in 



278 RECOLLECTIONS 

But my ideas, in a state of excitement from my resi- 
dence at Paris, had soon became more temperate in 
London. Being no longer within the influence of a 
fascinating society, I considered the subject in a dif- 
ferent point of view, and wrote a long letter to Cla- 
viere, not only to inform him that I retracted my en- 
gagement, but to represent to him that such a journal, 
being in direct opposition to the national assembly 
and the constitution already decreed, would be a 
criminal publication. I further urged that, since the 
king's return, the opportunity of founding a republic 
had gone by, and that he and all his friends would 
be incapacitated from serving the nation, if they per- 
severed in principles which were no longer professed 
except by a particular faction. I replied in the same 
strain to the letters of Madame Condorcet. Claviere, 
soon after, wrote that the Republican was given up, 
and the idea of a republic no longer existed ; that 
there was a reaction wholly in favour of monarchy ; 
that the assembly itself seemed to be promoting a 
counter-revolution, and that the sole suspicion of re- 
publicanism had become an odious imputation. 

The assembly, then in the act of revising the 
constitution, showed a desire to abandon its errors, 
correct exaggerations, and associate the king with 

unison with either my political opinions or my personal feelings. 
— Nota by Dumont. 



OF MIRABfiAtJ. 279 

public liberty. But each time a proposal was made 
tending to strengthen the executive, the parti de la 
Montague called out treason. If, however, the 
well-thinking portion of the assembly, who had dis- 
covered their error, had then thought of meeting 
and concerting measures of united action, it is proba- 
ble that the constitution would have undergone im- 
portant amendments. I had many particulars from 
d' Andre, the leading personage in the assembly du- 
ring these four months. Though not the most osten- 
sible, he was the most skilful, the most flexible, and 
the most able member in preparing a motion and 
making it succeed. When a plan was agreed upon 
in the committee of Lafayette, La Rochefoucauld, &c. , 
d' Andre went early to the assembly. As the mem- 
bers came in, he consulted them, insinuated his opin- 
ion, got them to press him to propose it, and did not 
seem to accede until they had promised to support 
him. This is the art he used to strengthen his party, 
and, in giving an opinion, he always seemed to be 
following one that had been suggested to him. 

The parti de la Montague^ often thwarted by 
d' Andre, took a dislike to him. Brissot, in his Pa- 
triot, attacked him with incredible virulence. The 
jacobins looked upon him as a man sold to the king. 
He had much talent and dexterity, but no imposing 
eloquence, and this is the reason why he never sue- 



280 RECOLLECTIONS 

ceeded in making himself popular. Sieyes, who 
would sometimes give way to a vein of pleasantry, was 
very fond of reciting a dialogue supposed to have 
passed between d' Andre and John, his valet- de-cham- 
bre. 

^^D" Andre, What is the order of the day? 

John. Sir, it is the question of the king's com- 
missaries in the courts of justice. 

D'' Andre. Help me off with this coat, and give 
me the old one. 

John. It is worn out at the elbows, sir. 

D' Andre. So much the better ; that is just what 
I want. Give me my old hat and my old stockings. 

John. Will you have your boots, sir ? It is wet 
under foot. 

D^ Andre. No, they are quite new; give me 
my thick shoes with iron nails; a little mud spoils 
nothing. This is an important question. Now, I 
am well dressed; who the devil, seeing me in this 
trim, would think of the civil list?'' 

D' Andre complained to me more of his associates 
than of his enemies. Their indolence was extreme ; 
they were weakened by the secret consciousness of 
having changed their opinions ; and when accused 
of inconsistency and contradiction, they could not re- 
ply to their opponents. In a word, they had been 
all fire in the attack, but were chilled in the defence. 



OF MIRABEAU. 281 

They often assembled in private, deliberated a long 
time, and determined upon nothing. The parti de 
la Montague had the advantage over them of con- 
sistency, whilst among the moderates were to be 
found traitors to their own principles. 

D'Andre said that the greatest obstacles proceed- 
ed from the court. The king listened to a great 
many different counsellors, whose advice he rendered 
nugatory by an ill-judged amalgamation of the whole. 
There was a number of petty intrigues, but no really 
concerted co-operation. A succession of foolish 
measures brought suspicion upon the court, and gave 
the appearance of counter-revolution to the acts of 
those who were working heart and hand for the 
maintenance of the constitutional monarchy. The 
greatest of their annoyances was to find themselves 
connected with persons who would have hanged 
them all for the re-establishment of despotism. 

The court party certainly committed suicide. 
The king was so badly advised, particularly by the 
queen, that he exerted all his influence to get the 
decree passed, which rendered the members of the 
first assembly ineligible to the second. D'Andre 
made me acquainted with all the particulars. He 
received a visit from one of the king's confidants, 
who, after preparing the way with a great deal of 
nonsense about gratitude, the esteem of the sovereign 
2l 



2'82 RECOLLECTIONS 

and future favours, told him that the court depended 
upon him to support this decree. D'Andre, who con- 
sidered it as destructive of the constitution, did 9,11 
in his power to open the king's eyes upon this 
point. To save time he got the question adjourned ; 
employed those who had influence at court, to point 
out the evils which would be the result — but the 
blindness was complete ; and the resentment of the 
queen against most of the members of the cote 
gauche, was so violent, that she considered the mon- 
archy saved, if she could only succeed in excluding 
from the assembly the men who had destroyed the 
power of the crown. The court had been led, or 
pretended to suppose, that the provinces were well- 
intentioned — that the king was beloved by his peo- 
ple, and that the electors would return men of a very 
different character, who would repair the faults of 
their predecessors. D'Andre, who presided when 
the decree was proposed, saw, with astonishment, 
the whole cote droit, who had been gained by the 
court party, join the parti de la Montagne, to get it 
passed without a discussion. '^ To the vote ! to the 
vote !" sounded on all sides. D' Andre exerted himself 
to enable his friends to speak, and subdue this danger- 
ous enthusiasm, but could not succeed. The decree 
was passed by acclamation, and the persons most 
pleased with its success, were they who, by support- 
ing it, had prepared their own downfall. 



OF MIRABEAU. 283 

The constitution was a true anomaly, containing 
too much of republicanism for a monarchy, and too 
much of monarchy for a republic. The king was 
an absolute excrescence ; he appeared every where, 
but possessed no real power. 



284 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XVIL 



No event ever inspired the whole of Europe with 
so deep an interest as the convocation of the states- 
general. Every enlightened and reflecting mind 
associated the most flattering anticipations with this 
public struggle against old and deeply rooted preju- 
dices, and expected a new moral and political world 
to arise out of chaos. The necessity of hope was so 
great, that all faults were pardoned? all misfortunes 
imputed to accident ; and in spite of calamities, the 
balance remained in favour of the constituent as- 
sembly. It was the prosecution of despotism by 
humanity. 

Six weeks after the convocation of the states- 
general, they no longer existed— they had been con- 
verted into a national assembly, whose first misfortune 
was, that it owed its new title to a revolution ; that 
is to say, to a change in its powers, its attributes, its 
title and its means. The commons should have acted 
in concert with the nobles, the clergy, and the king ; 



OF MIRABEAU. 285 

instead of which, they subjugated the clergy, the 
king, and the nobles, and acted not only without, but 
against them. This is the whole of the revolution. 

We may reason ad infinitum upon the causes of 
the revolution ; but in my mind, there is only one 
dominant and efficient cause — the weakness of the 
king's character. Had a firm and decided prince 
been in the place of Louis XVI. the revolution 
would not have happened. The whole of this mon- 
arch's reign led to it through different gradations. 
There is not a single period, during the existence of 
the first assembly, when the king could not have re- 
established his authority, and framed a mixed con- 
stitution much stronger and more solid than the old 
parliamentary and nobiliary monarchy of France. 
His weakness, his indecision, his half measures and 
half counsels, and more particularly his want of fore- 
sight, led to the catastrophe. The subordinate 
causes which concurred, are only the development 
of the first cause. When a prince is weak, his 
courtiers are intrigants ; the factious, daring and 
insolent ; the people audacious ; honest men timid ; 
the most zealous and faithful servants of the state 
discouraged ; the services of men of talent rejected ; 
and the best advice rendered nugatory. 

A king with dignity and energy of character 
would have drawn towards him, those who proved 
hostile to him ; and such men as Lafayette, the 



286 RECOLLECTIONS 

Lameths, Mirabeau, and Sieyes, would not have 
even thought of acting as they did, but upon a dif- 
ferent field of action, would have appeared quite 
different men.* 

After the forcible union of the orders, the as- 
sembly then enjoying the supreme power, pursued 

* This article requires development.^ln England there are 
discontented individuals, but no discontented classes. The 
king, nobility, gentry, merchants, manufacturers, farmers, cler- 
gy, army and navy, are each proud of their profession, of the 
consideration they enjoy, and the prospects attached to their 
situation in life. In France, before the revolution, discontent 
pervaded all classes of society. The farmers and cultivators 
were tired of the inequality of the taxes, and the arbitrary 
manner in which they were often imposed. The merchants 
were despised by the nobility, whilst the smaller nobles were 
jealous of the higher, who were alone presented at court, and 
in favour. The parliaments, with their contested prerogatives, 
were sometimes powerful, at others ill-treated ; exposed to exile 
when they resisted the government, and despised by the people 
when they yielded to the will of the court. The advocates, a 
numerous and widely-spread class, were kept below their pre- 
tensions, and their ambition was without hope. No place was 
offered to merit, in a kingdom where venality gave up all judi- 
cial appointments to fortune. A tie of common interest was 
wanting between the different orders. The provinces had, 
likewise, distinctions which led to rivalry and hatred ; there 
were fifty different organizations, each jealous of the other, and 
forming different states, united under the same crown, but ene- 
mies from their privileges. — Note by Dumont. 



OF MIRABEAU. 287 

a new plan. The faults of this body may be traced 
to nine causes. 

1. Its heterogeneous composition. The parties 
were too much irritated against each other to act in 
concert. They only sought to throw difficulties in 
each other's way, and overcome each other. The 
discontented often got decrees passed^ in the hope 
that the faults of the assembly would throw it into 
discredit with the public. They endeavoured to 
degrade it, and thus led it to self-destruction. 

2. The composition of the commons. There 
was too great a number of men without property, 
and advocates who carried democracy to the extreme 
of exaggeration. 

3. The bad method of carrying on their pro- 
ceedings. Forms are to a popular assembly what 
tactics are to an army. There was as much differ- 
ence between the debates of the national assembly 
and those of the English parliament, as between the 
scientific sieges and marches of the Austrians, and 
the irregular combats and skirmishes of the Croats. 

4. The constitutional decrees, sanctioned as fast 
as they were drawn up, and made permanent, with- 
out regard to the constitution as a whole ; which 
rendered the advantages of experience abortive, and 
drove the discontented to despair. Had these de- 
crees been only provisional, the hope of amending 
them would have supported all parties. 



288 RECOLLECTIONS 

5. The fear of a counter-revolution. The revo- 
lutionary party had set out by making powerful ene- 
mies ; and they then fancied they could never take 
precautions enough for their own safety. Every 
thing that had the least appearance of royal authority 
gave umbrage; the king's power seemed never suffi- 
ciently destroyed ; but, on the contrary, always on 
the point of resuscitation. The injury which they 
had done it, made it an object of dread to them. If 
the king but made himself popular by some step in 
favour of the revolution, the assembly became jea- 
lous. " The executive is pretending to be deadP^ 
once observed Lameth. 

6. The emigration. This was the greatest of all 
faults. The king was weakened by this desertion, 
and the emigrants, by their intrigues, their protesta- 
tions, and the uneasiness they created, brought on an 
internal reaction. 

7. The institution of the jacobins and other 
affiliated societies. The whole of the people were 
excited by these societies, which soon became pow- 
erful rivals of the assembly. A member who had no 
influence with the assembly, had only to affect exag- 
gerated democracy, and he became a hero among the 
jacobins. These societies formed hot-houses, in 
which every venomous plant that could not be made 
to grow in the open air, was forced, to maturity. 

8. The false measures of the court party. The 



OF MIRABEAU. 289 

latter began at first by acting against the assembly, 
in which they afterwards attempted to obtain influ- 
ence ; but it was too late. M. Necker displayed a 
prudery in this respect, honourable, no doubt, to a 
private individual, but indicative of great ignorance 
in a statesman. He knew not how to form a party, 
nor would he connect himself with Mirabeau, or 
flatter Sieyes to obtain his support. 

9. The secession, after the king's return from 
Varennes, of the members of the cote droit who, 
during the monarch's captivity, refused to vote in the 
assembly. Their inaction paralyzed the moderate 
revolutionists, and rendered them too weak to resist 
the jacobins. Had these moderates joined Mallouet 
and the Lameths, they might yet have preserved 
the constitution. 

The causes which overthrew this constitution, so 
solemnly sworn to, and so enthusiastically received 
by the whole nation, may be reduced to four. 

1. The unity of the legislature. If there had 
been two councils or legislative bodies, their progress 
would have been less impetuous ; and one would 
have served as a regulator to the other. 

2. The independence of the legislative assem- 
bly. If the king had possessed the power of convok- 
ing or dissolving it, he could have made his share 
of authority respected. But the moment the assera- 

2 M 



290 RECOLLECTIONS 

bly attacked him, he found himself without the means 
of resistance. 

3. The decree which rendered the members of 
the first assembly ineligible to the second. Though 
this be a secondary cause, it is, nevertheless, a very 
powerful one. The newly elected deputies were 
jealous of the glory won by their predecessors, and 
had no regard for a work in which they had not 
themselves concurred. 

4. The immutability of the constitutional laws. 
If my opinion be a correct one, ten years at least 
should have been allowed for altering the defects in 
these laws. A legislature whose hands were thus 
tied, found themselves in too cramped a situation ; 
and the two parties in the assembly soon concurred 
in a violent revolution which burst these absurd 
bonds. 

This assembly, after enjoying so brilliant an exist- 
ence, had an obscure end. From the moment of the 
king's return, it fell into disrepute, and dragged on 
the remnant of its being, between mistrust and con- 
tempt. Since it had discovered the evils arising 
from its excesses, and endeavoured to moderate them, 
it had lost that ascendency which belongs to offensive 
warfare. It seemed as if it would deprive the people 
of the power it had conferred upon them; and it had 
the appearance of condemning its own work, which 
it was then completing with remorse and disgust. 



OF MIRABEAU. 291 

Nothing was more brilliant than its beginning, nothing 
more insignificant than its end. 

The assembly no doubt repented not having pass- 
ed the constitutional laws provisionally, as it had 
been advised to do, so as to be able to compare and 
modify them as a whole, after the constitution was 
completed. By adopting a contrary system, an error 
became irremediable, and the effect of a bad law 
necessitated the framing of still worse laws. 

The revision, which was only a methodical arrange- 
ment and classification, would have been the most im- 
portant act of all, if the assembly had reserved 
a power of amendment over these laws. Maturity 
of judgment, acquired by an experience of three 
years, would then have aided in perfecting the work. 
But from ignorance and presumption, the assembly 
had pronounced itself infallible, and had made all im- 
provement impossible. At each decree, the depu- 
ties burnt, as it were, the ship which had brought 
them, and thus cut off all means of retreat. The 
truth is, that each constitutional law was a party 
triumph, and they who gained it would not leave 
their adversaries any hope of recovering their loss. 
The result of these forced laws, declared immutable, 
was to bring about a revolution by which, in the 
space of eight months, they were all annihilated. 

There is a fact which I distinctly remember, 
strongly illustrative of this defective mode of pro- 



292 RECOLLECTIOIQS 

ceeding. The committee appointed to draw up the 
code of constitutional laws were in the greatest em- 
barrassment to class and arrange them. Many fruit- 
less attempts were made and many plans proposed 
and rejected. Every one capable of giving advice 
was consultedj and if I am not mistaken, they re- 
mained in this difficulty five or six weeks, when M. 
Ramond, Lafayette's friend, furnished the plan of 
arrangement whicTi was adopted. 

I have finished with more patience than I had an- 
ticipated the account of my connexion with Mira- 
beau, and my recollections of this first epoch of the 
French revolution. This is the most interesting 
period, and yet I have rendered it very little so. I 
must have made very imperfect observations, had 
very little active curiosity, or my memory must be 
very defective. That such a multitude of events 
which occurred before my eyes, and the numerous 
actors with whom I had constant communication, 
should have left so slight an impression upon my 
mind, is a reproach which I feel that I deserve. It 
is the effect of my indifference to things when they 
are passing before me : and whose importance I never 
perceive till after they are gone by. Whilst they 
last, the most extraordinary appear to me but com- 
mon events, and obtain little of my attention. 
Though this confession may serve to convict me of 
stupidity, I cannot otherwise explain the little I saw 



OF MIRABEAU. 293 

and retained of this great drama. It is true that 
wherever I have lived, I have always been the last 
in the house to perceive what was going on. If I 
am required to know any family circumstance, it 
must be mentioned to me ; for not only am I not 
penetrating and cannot guess, but I have no taste for 
confidences, nor have secrets any attraction for me. 
I make these reflections with the more vexation be- 
cause I have retained less of the second part of my 
subject, upon which I am now about to enter, than of 
the first. My recollections are more scattered and 
the chain of events oftener broken. I have lost mctch 
of what I once knew ; and what is still more irrepa- 
rable, I did not take advantage of the particular cir- 
cumstances under which I was placed to become ac- 
quainted with half of what I might have known with 
very little trouble. I could never make up my mind 
to ask about any thing that was not first mentioned to 
me ; but it is also true that I obtained nothing by 
torture; therefore all I know proceeds from free and 
voluntary testimony. 



294 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



The first who came to England, after the close of 
the assembly, was Petion. I had been too intimate 
with him at Paris not to call upon him in London. 
But he was so well received, and his society so much 
courted, that the good fortune of finding him alone 
was very rare. It was who should have him at their 
house. He was overloaded with invitations and re- 
ceived the most flattering attentions. He had come, 
he said, to examine trial by jury in civil and criminal 
cases. He did not, it is true, understand the English 
language, but a barrister well acquainted with the 
French language ofiered to accompany him to the 
courts of law. A day was fixed, but Petion did not 
keep his appointment. He had been showing Lon- 
don to a friend just arrived. He remained only 
three weeks, and the attentions he received from a 
particular party excited the suspicion of the go- 
vernment. 

Some time after, d' Andre sought refuge in Lon- 



OF MIRABEAU. 295 

don. The pitiless Brissot had not ceased, in his 
paper called the Patriot, to propagate calumnies 
against him. Brissot thought it necessary to ruin or 
at least drive him away ; and as he was an active and 
intelligent man, devoted to the king, he was accused 
of participating in the civil list. If d'Andre enjoyed 
his share of royal favour, he did not, at all events, 
make an ostentatious display of it. After the closing 
of the assembly, he had the good sense, although a 
noble, to enter into trade, and open a grocer's shop 
at Paris. This conduct, so popular and so conso- 
nant to the spirit of the constitution, ought to have 
disarmed Brissot^s malice ; but Brissot was one of 
those men in whom party spirit prevailed over right 
and justice ; or rather, he confined right and justice 
to his own party. He had more of the zeal of the 
monk than any man I ever knew. Had he been a 
capuchin, he would have doated upon his staff and 
his vermin — a dominican, he would have burnt here- 
tics — a Roman, he would have proved not unworthy 
of Cato and Regulus. But he was a French repub- 
lican, who had determined to overthrow the monar- 
chy ; and to accomplish this object he hesitated not 
to calumniate, to persecute, and to perish himself 
upon the scaffold. 

I became acquainted with d' Andre at Versailles ; 
but I afterwards saw very little of him at Paris. On 
his arrival in London, I called upon him, introduced 



296 RECOLLECTIONS 

him to several of my friends^ and had opportunities 
of knowing him well during his two or three years' 
residence in England. He had a great deal of wit, 
a quick glance, great facility of explanation without 
being an orator, and great clearness of conception — 
all which made him an expert and industrious mem- 
ber of the national assembly, and afterwards an ex- 
cellent merchant. He was affectionate, generous, 
obliging, easy and simple in his manners; modest, 
retiring, and timid in company, to such a degree, 
that the man who had been four times president of 
the assembly, and had spoken before all France, was 
agitated and nervous at the idea of supporting an 
opinion or keeping up an indifferent conversation 
before three or four individuals. What he wanted 
was an air of dignity and an imposing carriage. A 
vulgar countenance, and an insignificant figure told 
against him in his elevated situation, nor had he any 
thing in his appearance to indicate, at a first glance, 
either his talents and quickness of perception, or his 
benevolence and goodness of heart. 

I do not remember the exact time when M. de 
Talleyrand came to London. By a decree of the 
national assembly, which prohibited, during two 
years, its members from being employed by the ex- 
ecutive, he could not have an ostensible public mis- 
sion. But he had an equivalent. His was a journey 
of observation, and he was to negotiate, if he found 



OF MIRABEAU. 297 

the English ministers accessible, that is to say, dis- 
posed to consider the constitutional king of France 
in a new light, and maintain the neutrality of Great 
Britain in the event of war, which began to appear 
inevitable on the continent. 

I had formed no intimacy with the bishop of Au- 
tun at Paris, but we were acquainted, and he had 
not been long in London before he made me such 
advances as from our relative ranks ought to have 
come from hira, if he were desirous of a closer ac- 
quaintance. He had particular letters of intro- 
duction to Lord Lansdowne ; and his distinguished 
reputation, which opened to him the road to the 
highest political honours, caused his society to be 
courted by such as had not already imbibed strong 
prejudices against all who were connected with the 
French revolution. 

M. de Talleyrand is descended from a family of 
sovereign counts, one of the most ancient houses in 
France. He was the eldest of three brothers ; but 
being lame from infancy, he had been thought un- 
worthy of figuring in the world, and was destined for 
the church, although he possessed not one of the 
qualifications which, in the Roman communion, can 
render this profession even tolerable. I have often 
heard him say, that, despised by his parents as a 
being disgraced by nature and fit for nothing, he had 

contracted, from his earliest youth, a sombre and 

2n 



298 RECOLLECTIONS 

taciturn habit. Having been forced to yield the 
rights of primogeniture to a younger brother, he had 
never slept under the same roof with his parents. 
At the seminary he had but few intimate associates ; 
and from his habitual chagrin, which rendered him 
unsociable, he was considered very proud. Condemn- 
ed to the ecclesiastical state against his will, he did 
not imbibe sacerdotal sentiments and opinions, any 
more than cardinal de Retz and many others. He 
even exceeded the limits of indulgence granted to 
youth and gentle blood ; and his morals were any 
thing but clerical. But he managed to preserve 
appearances, and, whatever were his habits, no 
one knew better when to speak and when to be 
silent. 

I am not sure that he was not somewhat too ambi- 
tious of producing effect by an air of reserve and 
reflection. He was always at first very cold, spoke 
little, and listened with great attention. His fea- 
tures, a little bloated, seemed to indicate effeminacy ; 
but his manly and brave voice formed a striking con- 
trast with this expression. In society, he was always 
distant and reserved, and never exposed himself to 
familiarity. The English, who entertain the most 
absurd prejudices against the French, were surprized 
at finding in him neither vivacity, familiarity, indis- 
cretion, or national gaity. A sententious manner, 
frigid politeness, and an air of observation, formed 



OF MIRABEAU. 299 

an impenetrable shield around his diplomatic cha- 
racter. 

When among his intimate friends he was quite a 
different being. He was particularly fond of social 
conversation, which he usually prolonged to a very 
late hour. Familiar^, aifectionate, and attentive to 
the means of pleasing, he yielded to a species of in- 
tellectual epicurism, and became amusing that he 
might be himself amused. He was never in a hurry 
to speak, but selected his expressions with much care. 
The points of his wit were so acute, that to appreci- 
ate them fully required an ear accustomed to hear 
him speak. He is the author of the bon-mot quoted 
somewhere by Champfort, where Rulhiere said, " I 
know not why I am called a wicked man, for I never, 
in the whole course of my life^, committed but one act 
of wickedness." The bishop of Autun, who had not 
previously taken any part in the conversation, im- 
mediately exclaimed, with his full sonorous voice and 
significant manner, ^^ But when will this act be at 
an endP^' One evening at whist, whilst he was in 
London, a lady of sixty was mentioned as just having 
married a footman. Several expressed their surprise 
at such a choice. " When you are nine," said the 
bishop of Autun, "you do not count honours !" This 
kind of wit belonged exclusively to him. He imbibed 
it from the writings of Fontenelle, of whom he was 
always a great admirer. He once related to me an 



300 RECOLLECTIONS 

abominable act of his colleague^ C . . at which i in- 
dignantly exclaimed, " The man who would do that, 
is capable of assassination ! " '^ No," said M. de 
Talleyrand, ^' not of assassination, but of poisoning 1" 
His manner of story-telling is peculiarly graceful ; 
and he is a model of good taste in conversation. In- 
dolent, voluptuous, born to wealth and grandeur, he 
had yet, during his exile, accustomed himself to a life 
of privation ; and he liberally shared with his friends 
the only resources he had left, arising from the sale 
of the wreck of his superb library, which fetched a 
very low price, because, even in London, party- 
spirit prevented a competition of purchasers. 

Talleyrand did not come to London for nothing. 
He had a long conference with Lord Grenville, of 
which I have read his written account. Its object 
was to point out the advantages which England might 
derive from France having a constitutional king, and 
to form a close connexion betv/een the two courts. 
For, although the British cabinet appeared deter- 
mined, in the event of war, to preserve a strict neu- 
trality, it was extremely reserved towards France, 
because it neither sympathised with the French gov- 
ernment, nor believed in the stability of the French 
constitution. This coldness gave great disquietude 
to the cabinet of the Tuileries, and it was Talley- 
rand's object to bring them closer together, even if 
he could not unite them, and thus make sure that, at 



OF MIRABEAU. 301 

all events, France had nothing to fear from England. 
Lord Grenville was dry and laconic ; nor did he 
lend himself, in any way, to the furtherance of Talley- 
rand's views, notwithstanding the advantages they 
held out to England. It is well known that Lord 
Grenville afterwards represented the bishop of Autun 
as a clever, but dangerous man. Mr Pitt, when very 
young, visited France, and spent some time with the 
archbishop of Rheims, Talleyrand's uncle. Here the 
latter became acquainted with him, and these young 
men passed several weeks together in friendly and 
familiarly intercourse. But in the only interview 
they had in England, Talleyrand thought it Pitt's 
place to recall this circumstance, and therefore did 
not mention it. Pitt, who was decidedly opposed to 
the object of Talleyrand's mission, took good care 
not to remember the uncle, lest he should be obliged 
to show some civility to the nephew. 

On Talleyrand's presentation at court, the king 
took but little notice of him, and the queen turned 
her back upon him with marked contempt, which 
she subsequently imputed to his immoral character. 
From that period he was excluded from the higher 
circles of society, as a dangerous man, and the agent 
of a faction, — who could not actually be turned out 
of doors, but whom it was improper to receive well ; 
and he could not hope for much success in a mission 
which began under such unfavourable auspices. 



302 RECOLLECTIONS 

In the course of February 1792, Talleyrand was 
informed by his correspondents at Paris, that impru- 
dent changes were about to take place in the ministry, 
and that his friend, Louis de Narbonne, the minister 
of war, was in danger of being dismissed. He im- 
mediately applied for and obtained permission to 
return to Paris, and determined to take with him 
Duroverai, whom I had introduced to him, and whose 
advice he had found very useful. Duroverai had 
much at heart the maintenance of a good understand- 
ing between the two countries, and flattered himself 
that his connexion with Talleyrand might promote 
that object which, he thought, could not but be 
agreeable to the English government. He was very 
intimate with Lord Sydney, and some other indivi- 
duals connected with the British cabinet; and he had 
taken advantage of this intimacy to dissipate the 
prejudices formed against Talleyrand. His inter- 
vention had therefore been useful to both parties, and 
he fancied himself called upon to be the secret me- 
diator between the two governments. Talleyrand 
wanted him at Paris, to confirm all that he had to say 
concerning the general feelings in England, to Cla- 
viere, Brissot, and several others who had formed 
very wrong notions on the subject, and who would 
listen more readily to their old friend Duroverai 
than to Talleyrand, who might be suspected of hav- 
ing some personal interest at stake. Duroverai's 



OF MIRABEAU. 303 

opinion was a passport for his — a letter of credit to 
the chiefs of the popular party. It was for these 
same reasons that both Talleyrand and Duroverai 
urged me to accompany them, and in truth, I requi- 
red very little pressing. The idea of this visit to 
Paris, which was to last only a fortnight, but ex- 
ceeded six weeks, gave me much pleasure. I had 
seen too much of the first assembly not to be desi- 
rous of seeing the second. It was an interesting 
episode in my monotonous existence. If I could join 
my voice to theirs, and dissipate the prejudices 
which we knew our friends to have formed against 
England — if I could make them feel the necessity of 
doing every thing for the preservation of peace, I 
should serve the cause of freedom and humanity. — 
Such an object of public interest gave fresh excite- 
ment to a journey of pleasure, and connected me 
with a great political project. I was also intimate 
with Con dorcet, Claviere, Petion, and many others 
whom it was necessary to bring to act in concert. 



€ # 



^04 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XIX. 



Never did I perform a more agreeable journey. 
Talleyrand was fond of having a small party in a car- 
riage, because the conversation, of which, soit dit en 
passant, he was the life and soul, was friendly and 
uninterrupted. Hopes, projects and pleasing anti- 
cipations kept our minds to the necessary degree of 
tension, and we had not an instant of langour or in- 
difference. Talleyrand, among many other singular 
anecdotes, described the manner in which the new 
clergy had been consecrated. Three bishops were 
necessary for the ceremony, and his two coadju- 
tors had hesitated till the last moment. Nothing 
was less canonical than the means he employed to 
secure the co-operation of one of them, w^ho wanted 
to withdraw and thereby prevent the ceremony 
from taking place.* One species of fear overcame 

* Being told by the bishop of Lida, that the bishop of Ba- 
bylon was wavering in his resolution, Talleyrand paid the latter 



OF MIRABEAU. 305 \ 

\ 

another, and the breviary by which they were con- 
vinced was a pistol and a menace of self-destruction. 
That so sacred a ceremony should have been brought 
about in such a manner, did not seem to me quite in 
unison with the principles of religion ; but when the 
critical situation of the bishop of Autun is consid- 
ered, and the danger he would have incurred had 
the weakness of his colleagues prevented the conse- 
cration of the new clergy, some excuse may be made 
for an act which tended to preserve the community 
from revolt and bloodshed. 

As we entered Paris, on the 19th of March, a 
friend of M. de Talleyrand's stopped our carriage 
to inform us that the court party had obtained the 
dismissal of M. de Narbonne. His connexion with 
the Girondists had led to the measure ; but people 
were surprised that the king should still venture 
upon inflicting this kind of disgrace. De Graves 
had been appointed to succeed M. de Narbonne. 

a visit, and with a most serious look, informed him that their 
colleague, the bishop of Lida, was on the point of deserting 
them ; that he well knew to what such conduct exposed them 
from the people ; but his mind was made up never to suffer him- 
self to be stoned by the mob, and he would certainly shoot 
himself if either of them betrayed him. As he said this, he 
produced a small pistol which he flourished with an air of de- 
termination. This menace had its due effect. — Note by Du- 
mont. 

2o 



306 RECOLLECTIONS 

I soon made myself acquainted with what was 
going on. There were three parties in the assem- 
bly, each of whom swore by tlie constitution, though 
all three were dissatisfied with it. The true consti- 
tutional party, at whose head was Vaublanc, were 
accused of secretly aiming at an extension of the 
royal .luthority, and the formation of two legislative 
chambers. This party, in their turn, imputed to 
the Girondists a conspiracy against the constitution, 
and the desire of establishing a republic. The Gi- 
rondists cast upon the ultras of la Montague the 
reproach of creating anarchy with a view to throw 
odium upon the two other parties. The parti 
de la Montague accused the constitutionalists of hav- 
ing sold themselves to the king, and the Girondists 
of a wish to govern in such a manner as to sacrifice 
the country to the private interests of their own fac- 
tion. — Hatred, mistrust and exaggeration were car- 
ried to a lamentable excess, and it is difiicult to form 
an idea of the passions which swayed this legislative 
assembly. The moderates, as the first were called, 
were the most sincere' and honest ; the Girondists 
possessed all the talent, knowledge and eloquence \ 
and the parti de la Montague had, in addition to 
their audacity and violence, the support of the 
populace of the faubourgs. 

There were two principal clubs : that of the Feu- 
illans who supported the constitution, and that of the 



OF MIR ABE AU. 307 

jacobins whose principles tended to anarchy. The 
Girondists fluctuated between both, and joined either 
according to circumstances ; but they were hostile to 
"the principles of the Feuillans, whilst they only 
feared the excesses of the jacobins. 

The king was governed by the Feuillans. The La- 
meths and Barnave, who, with others of their friends, 
were the leaders of this party, showed, then, as de- 
termined a hostility to the majority in the legislative 
assembly as they had formerly done to the court. 
They thought of nothing but turning this majority 
into ridicule, and bringing it into contempt. Such 
a thing was certainly not difficult, but might lead to 
dreadful acts of violence. They had obtained the 
dismissal of M. de Narbonne as devoted to the Gi- 
rondists, whilst his imputed attachment to themselves 
had rendered him equally odious to the jacobins. 

I will state my recollections of the Girondist party 
with whom, at first, I found myself connected from 
my intimacy with Condorcet, Brissot and Claviere. 

They took me to breakfast-parties at the house of 
a lady named, I think, d'Odun, who resided in the 
Place- Vendome. These parties were usually attend- 
ed by Brissot, Claviere, Roederer, Gensonne, Guadet, 
Vergniaud, the Ducos, Condorcet, &c., w-ho met at 
this house before they went to the assembly, and 
here concerted their measures. But it may be readily 
conceived that, at these meetings, there was more 



308 RECOLLECTIONS 

prating and party gossip than business done. Bris- 
sot was the man of action ; he did every thing, and 
\ his activity sufficed to meet every emergency. 

\ Their principal object was to overthrow the courts" 

by declaiming against the Austrian committee ; a sort 
of invisible power against which they might bring 
whatever charges they pleased. It was well known 
that the king had secret counsels, and the queen se- 
cret conferences ; that couriers were dispatched to 
the princes of the blood at Vienna and Coblentz ; that 
all the ambassadors to foreign potentates were attached 
to the old regime, and had adhered to the constitu- 
tion against their will ; that, in a word, the professed 
opinion of the court was constitutional, but the real 
opinion decidedly hostile to the constitution. — The 
more the history of this period is studied, the stronger 
becomes the certainty that the court wore a mask. 
The king alone showed his face, but only in profile ; 
and there is no doubt that he would have modified 
the constitution, had he been able. This was, how- 
ever, excusable, as it had already been admitted, by 
every man of reflection, that this constitution could 
never insure the primary object of a good govern- 
ment ; I mean, public tranquillity. 

The Girondists, persuaded that there was a conspi- 
racy, among several foreign courts, against the French 
people, attempted to get at the secret by the appoint- 
ment of a ministry of their own choice, who could 



OF MIRABEAU. 309 

dive to the bottom of the intrigue and cause its 
failure. 

But the ambition of governing was the real object 
of their manoeuvres ; and they felt the necessity of 
power to enable them to encounter the jacobins of 
Robespierre, who were becoming formidable.* 

M. de Lessart, the minister for foreign affairs, 
was an honest man, tolerably constitutional, but more 
attached to the old than the new regime. The Gi- 
rondists wanted to get rid of him j and his corres- 
pondence with M. de Noailles, ambassador at Vienna, 
afforded them the opportunity. The diplomatic 
committee, having called for and obtained copies of 
this correspondence, were loud in their complaints. 
They accused M. de Noailles of having debased the 
dignity of France, by temporizing under the insulting 
hauteur of the prince of Kaunitz ; and M. de Lessart, 
of sanctioning further degradation, and seeming to 
apologize for suffering the constitution to exist, in- 
stead of assuming a proper tone of dignity, and ma- 
king a strong declaration in its favour. 

M. de Lessart had received instructions from the 
diplomatic committee to demand a categorical expla- 
nation of certain expressions used by the prince of 

* This illustrates the dangerous consequences of political 
excesses. A party which has made itself feared, must obtain 
power for its own safety ; and is thus reduced to conquer or 
perish. — Note by Dumont. 



310 RECOLLECTIONS 

Kaunitz. The explanation was given, but did not 
prove satisfactory. It was a violent attack upon the 
jacobins, whose excesses were represented as degra- 
ding to the king's majesty, and setting a dangerous 
example to the rest of Europe. This answer, sup- 
posed to have been concerted between the king and 
M. de Lessart, increased the enemies of the minis- 
ters, and its ultimate effect was to raise the jacobin 
faction into notice and power. 

Alarmed at the complaints of the diplomatic com- 
mittee, M. de Lessart thought to lull the storm by 
resigning his office. . But Brissot prepared an act of 
impeachment against him, upon which he was sent to 
Orleans for trial by the high national court. 

I heard this act, containing seventeen or eighteen 
counts, read in the committee. When alone with 
Brissot and Claviere, I made some observations on 
the subject. I said the counts were many of them 
one and the same thing ; others so vague that it was 
impossible to answer them ; that they were generally 
artful, and calculated to excite undue prejudice and 
violent animosity against the accused ; that some of 
them were contradictory ; and that personal invec- 
tive ought to be carefully avoided in a criminal ac- 
cusation, &c. I have forgotten what else I said; but 
if, upon the whole, I was displeased with this docu- 
ment^ I was indignant at Brissot's reply. Laughing 
at niy simplicity, he said, in a tone of disgusting lev- 



OF MIKABEAU. 311 

ity, " It is a necessary party manoeuvre. De Lessart 
must positively go to Orleans, otherwise the king, 
who is attached to him, would replace him in the 
administration. We must steal a march upon the ja- 
cobins, and this act of impeachment gives us the 
merit of having done that which they would them- 
selves do. This is so much taken from them. I 
know that the counts are multiplied without necessity, 
but the object of this is to lengthen the proceedings. 
Oarand de Coulon, who is at the head of the high 
national court, is a nice observer of legal forms ; he 
will proceed methodically in the examination of each 
separate count, and six months will elapse before de 
Lessart will be able to get rid of the affair. I know 
that he will be acquitted, because there is no evidence 
against him ; but we shall have gained our object by 
preventing his return to office." ^^Good God!" L 
exclaimed, confounded at such odious principles, 
*^ are you so deep in party machiavelism ? Are you 
the man whom I once knew so decided an enemy to 
subterfuge? Is it Brissot who now persecutes an in- 
nocent man?. . . ." " But," he replied, disconcerted, 
'^ you are not aware of our situation. De Lessart's ad- 
ministration would destroy us, and we must get rid of 
him at any price. It is only a temporary measure. 
I know Garand's integrity, and de Lessart will come 
to no harm. But we must save the country, and we 
cannot overcome the Austrian cabinet unless the min- 



312 RECOLLECTIONS 

ister of foreign affairs be a man on whom we can de- 
pend. Nevertheless, I will attend to your observa- 
tions, and strike out the terms of invective to which 
you so properly object." 

From that time, Brissot fell in my estimation. I 
did not come to a rupture with him, but ray friend- 
ship weakened with my esteem. I had formerly 
known him candid and generous ; he was now insidu- 
ous and persecuting. If he had any qualms of con- 
science — for Brissot was both a moral and a religious 
man — they were allayed by the pretended necessity 
of saving the state. It is in times of political faction 
that we see illustrations of the correctness of the ideas 
of Helvetius upon what constitutes virtue : Brissot 
was faithful to his party, but a traitor to integrity. 
He was excited by a feeling of enthusiasm for which 
he was ready to sacrifice his life ; and because he 
felt neither avarice nor ambition of ofiice, he fancied 
himself a pure and virtuous citizen. " Look at the 
extreme simplicity of my dwelling, and my table, 
worthy of a Spartan — inquire into my domestic life, 
and see if you can justly reproach me with dissipation 
or frivolity. For two years I have not been near a 
theatre ! ! !'' Such was the ground of his confidence. 
He perceived not t^at party zeal, love of power, ha- 
tred, and self-love are quite as dangerous in corrupt- 
ing the human heart, as the thirst of riches, the am- 
bition of office or the love of pleasure. 



OF MIRABRAU. 313 

De Lessart's impeachment produced all the effect 
which the Girondists desired. Their influence was 
brought to light. They were considered all-power- 
ful, and they really became so. The king, terror- 
struck, threw himself into their arms. De Graves, 
as the oldest member of the council, although he had 
been a member of it but six days, was called upon to 
furnish the king with a list of names to complete the 
new council of administration ; but he feared to act 
under any other influence than that of the party who 
could impeach ministers and send them, for trial, 
before the high national court. This party, there- 
fore, had the nomination of the new councillors, and 
the first they appointed were Duraouriez, Claviere, 
Roland, Lacoste and Duranton. 

I had become slightly acquainted with de Graves 
in London, and I, therefore, paid him a simple visit 
of politeness at the Hotel de la Guerre. He received 
me in the most cordial manner. " When we used 
to walk together in Kensington Gardens," said he, 
*^ neither you nor I ever supposed that I should, one 
day, be a minister. I consented to take office for 
the sole purpose of acquiring greater experience of 
public aifairs and of men. I have no ambition, nei- 
ther have I a thirst for power or riches ; but I am 
determined to try what a modest and disinterested 
man can do, who has no other object in view than 
the public good ." I found that, all things considered , 
2p 



314 RECOLLECTIONS 

he dwelt at too great length, and with a little silli- 
ness, upon his philosophy and moderation ; but he 
was astonished at finding himself in such a sphere, 
and tliey, who well knew him, were equally so. No 
one was less qualified to take a part in a stormy ad- 
ministration. He was an honest man, and his heart 
w^as good ; he was a stranger to all party feeling, but 
was weak both in body and mind ; he was not defi- 
cient in acquirements and laboured hard ; but he 
wanted energy of character and a firm will of his 
own. Madame Roland, in her memoirs, treats him 
with the most unjust contempt. She could see no- 
thing in him but a bel- esprit of the drawing-room, 
a fop in the shape of a minister ; his amenity, mild- 
ness, and good breeding were so many blemishes, at 
a period requiring a development of the greatest 
energies. Certain it is that he was out of his sphere, 
and his acceptance of office was a great error in 
judgment. After two months of hard labour, he 
became bewildered ; and that to such a degree, that 
in his signatures he forgot his own name, and not 
being aware of what he was doing, once signed him- 
self Mayor of Pm^is. I had this fact from himself. 

From my very first conversation with him, I re- 
gretted not being sufficiently intimate to advise his 
resignation . Accustomed to the manner of Mirabeau, 
I now found myself at the Antipodes. De Graves, 
having been brought into office by the Lameths, 



OF MIRABEAU. 315 

knew not how to behave towards the Girondists. He 
was friendly to the former and afraid of the latter ; 
and in listening to both parties, he tried to draw a 
diagonal between them. He suifered himself to be 
governed by Dumouriez, while the latter was in the 
ministry ; and from Dumouriez's well known activity, 
which absorbed every thing, the most fortunate cir- 
cumstance which could occur to him was to be taken 
in tow by that minister. 

I must here mention one of those singular circum- 
stances which often designate the secret causes of 
events. I was seriously consulted upon the choice of 
a war minister. Such a thing is ridiculous, but it is 
nevertheless true. The Girondists, having filled up 
the appointments in the council, looked upon de 
Graves with displeasure, because he had been brought 
into oflice by the Feuillans. Brissot and his friends, 
aware of my intimacy with Duchatelet, asked me, in 
sober earnest, w^hether I thought him capable of fill- 
ing the office of minister of war j what opinion I had 
formed of his talents and principles, and how far I 
considered him trust-worthy. No confidence was 
placed in Condorcet's opinion on these points, because 
Duchatelet might be deemed almost a member of his 
family. I got off by aifecting to treat the matter as 
a joke. I found de Graves too weak, Duchatelet too 
violent. And in truth, the confidence which the for- 
mer had in me, and my friendship for the latter, 
would have placed me in an awkward predicament, 



316 RECOLLECTIONS 

had I not averted it by the natural idea of laughing 
at Claviere and Brissot for consulting me on such a 
subject. 1 informed Duchatelet, however, that his 
name had been mentioned; but he begged that I 
would contrive to spare him the necessity of refusing 
the office, because he anticipated war^ and was anx- 
ious to go into active service . With superior know- 
ledge and talents, he did not yet feel himself qualified 
to be a minister, and he never would take an office 
unsuited to his abilities. How the Girondists could 
reconcile with delicacy the idea of placing, among 
the king's responsible advisers, a man who had signed 
the first proclamation in favour of a republic, is more 
than I can pretend to explain. When I was sure of 
Duchatelet's refusal, I ventured an observation upon 
this inconsistency. 

I had flattered myself a moment with the hope of 
being able, through the Chevalier de Graves, to bring 
about a treaty of peace between the Feuillans and the 
Girondists. These parties mutually accused each 
other of a desire to overthrow the constitution, the 
former to establish tv/o legislative chambers and the 
latter a republic. I became a species of mediator 
who could create no distrust ; I carried messages from 
one party to the other, and endeavoured to bring 
about conferences between them ; but my plan did 
not succeed, because the Girondists, fearful of the 
hostility of the jacobins, would not unite themselves 
with the opponents of the latter. 



OF MIRABEAU. 317 

The Girondists, then masters of the cabinet, were 
pretty well disposed towards the king. I wrote a 
speech for Gensonne, which was a profession of faith 
on behalf of his party. This speech was much ap- 
plauded in the committee. Its object was to profess 
attachment to the constitution, and point out the fac- 
tions by which it was endangered. It was composed 
with sufficient art to prevent strong declarations in 
favour of royalty, and a vigorous denunication of 
anarchy, from giving offence. Though Gensonne's 
cold and feeble manner was very different from that 
of Mirabeau, still he was listened to and applauded. 
The king was much pleased ; and indeed, this was 
the last monarchical speech made in the assembly. I 
was well satisfied at having got this public step 
taken by a party always suspected of republicanism. 
But it was like a drop of oil upon the tempestuous 
ocean. 

This speech was strangely mutilated in the Moni- 
teur. The conclusion of it had not been well receiv- 
ed by the parti de la Montague, and the assembly 
had not, therefore, decreed that it should be printed. 
The Girondists already began to fear that they had 
gone too far, and to repent of having made concess- 
ions to the cause of royalty. I used to attend Pe- 
tion's public dinners, at the Mairie, at which the 
Girondists were always in strong force. At these 
parties, the conversation was always pointed, like a 



318 RECOLLECTIONS 

battery, against the court. The Coblentz conspi- 
racy, that of the Austrian cabinet, and the treachery 
of the court were animadverted upon; and the 
moderantism of the Feuillans was considered much 
more heinous than the anarchial fury of the jacobins. 
Chabot, of whom Madame Roland relates a trait of 
fanaticism which she was credulous enough to be- 
lieve sincere, used to put on his bonnet-rouge, and 
amuse the company by low buffoonery, in ridicule of 
the king. Many of the guests, whose names I for- 
get, were disgustingly coarse and vulgar ; and I was 
surprised at seeing Condorcet derive pleasure from 
a society so much beneath him. I know nothing, in 
a popular party, more annoying to a well-bred man, 
than being obliged to associate with low and ill- 
mannered persons. Such, however, was the com- 
mencement of those disgusting manners and that 
sans-culotism, by which France was so degraded. 
Politeness and decorum of behaviour were aristo- 
cratical distinctions, necessary to be trodden under 
foot, in order to attain to equality with the rabble.* 

* Four journals appeared, at that period, against the court, 
and their success was precisely in an inverse ratio to their me- 
rit. The Chronique de Paris, by Condorcet, written with 
much art, with traits of covered malice and veiled satire, was 
scarcely known except at Paris and in foreign countries'. 
Brissot's Patriote, open and violent, but pure in style, cir- 
culated more in the Cafes and in the provinces. Les An- 



OF MlRABEAtr. 319 

The leaders of the Girondists were persons of a 
difTerent description. Vergniaud was an indolent 
man, who spoke little, and required to be stimu- 
lated ; but when excited, his eloquence was true, 
forcible, penetrating, and sincere. Guadet, who 
had more vivacity, wit, and smoothness, was eloquent 
and ingenious; always ready to appear in the tri- 
bune and face his opponents. Brissot was always 
writing, running about, getting up meetings, and 
putting his machinery in motion ; but he had not 
the gift of oratory. He was deficient in dignity, 
ease, expression and presence of mind. Gensonne 
was of a mild and easy temper. The eloquence of 
Buzot was penetrating and persuasive. De Sers, 
who was unknown to the public, but had great influ- 
ence in their committees, was sensible, moderate, 
and of amiable temper. He often made them revoke 
precipitate resolutions, and was the only one who 
could keep Brissot in order. Roederer was a man 

nales Patriotiques, by Mercier and Cara, obtained great vogue, 
from its meanly vulgar style, and was read aloud for the edification 
of all the affiliated clubs. But the Pere Duchesne, who dishon- 
oured literature by the most obscene and infamous style, was the 
delight of the multitude. Such was the auction of popularity. It 
is right to show those who embrace this career, that the prize 
is always won by the most impudent. Condorcet, from his supe- 
riority of talent, was a mere subaltern of the Pere Duchesne. — 
Note by Dumont. 



320 RECOLLECTIONS 

of intellect, but extremely ignorant. He was so 
inconsiderate and thoughtless, that he could never 
raise himself above a subordinate part, although, in 
capacity, he was superior to the whole of his party. 
Condorcet never spoke in the tribune, and very 
little in conversation. He was nick-named the mad 
ram. He was not a party leader; for although his 
name gave great weight to the party, he appeared 
to me nothing more than a simple approver or de- 
fender of their measures. His Chronique de PajHs 
was a well written paper. The court had no greater 
enemy than he ; and his attacks were the more dan- 
gerous, because they were carried on in a tone of 
refinement, decorum, and calmness, which made a 
much stronger impression than the violent insults of 
Brissot and the jacobins. Champfort was brilliant 
and sarcastic, and his caustic bon-mots were in gene- 
ral circulation. His dread of the conspirators at the 
Tuileries, prevented him from sleeping. He always 
fancied himself upon a mine of gunpowder about to 
explode. Sieyes had generally the same fears ; and 
during his dreams, saw his head rolling upon the 
ground. 

All, from a sentiment of fear, were working in 
conjunction, at the overthrow of the monarchy ; they 
wanted to get rid of a phantom, which kept them in 
a constant agony of alarm. However we may ridi- 
cule these imaginary terrors, they certainly brought 



OF MIRABEAU. 321 

about the second revolution; The minds of men 
were not in their right tone; and if jealousy imparts 
an air of reality, to the most imperfect appearances, 
and finds evidence in mere suspicion, — party spirit 
has a similiar action upon the mind, and, like a fever 
which inflames the brain, and presents livid spectres 
and deformed monsters to the imagination, it creates 
sinister and appalling visions. 



2 Q 



322 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XX. 



I WAS taken to Roland's. This personage was sim- 
ple in his manners, grave in his conversation, and 
somewhat pedantic about virtue. But such kind of 
moral ostentation, so strongly ridiculed in Necker, 
does not displease me in a public man. Not that I 
admire an individual who seems amazed at his own 
probity, and, like the Doge of Genoa, is in astonish- 
ment at finding himself existing in an age of corrup- 
tion, but a minister who lays a degree of stress upon 
morality, seems to me calculated to brace up the re- 
laxed morals of society. Such affectation does not 
indeed sit well iipon every one, but many who ap- 
pear to turn it into ridicule hold it secretly in dread. 
To a very beautiful person, Madame Roland uni- 
ted great powers of intellect , her reputation stood 
very high, and her friends never spoke of her but 
with the most profound respect. In character she 
was a Cornelia, and had she been blessed with sons, 
would have educated them like the Gracchi. At 



OF MIRABEAU. 323 

lier house I saw several committees composed of 
ministers, and of the leading Girondists. A female 
appeared rather out of place at such meetings ; but 
she took no part in the discussions. She was gene- 
rally at her desk writing letters, and seemed not to 
notice what was going on, — of which, however, she 
did not lose a word. The simplicity of her dress 
did not detract from her natural grace and elegance, 
and though her pursuits were more adapted to the 
other sex, she adorned them with all the charms 
of her own. I reproach myself with not having 
personally known all her good qualities ; but I had 
imbibed a prejudice against female politicians; and I 
found in her, besides, too much of that tendency to 
mistrust resulting from ignorance of the world. 

Claviere and Roland, after seeing the king at the 
council, had abandoned their prejudices, and gave 
him credit for sincerity ; but Madame Roland did 
not cease warning them against the illusions of the 
court ; because she could not believe in the good 
faith of a prince educated with an opinion that he 
was superior to other men. She maintained that 
both were dupes, and the most satisfactory assu- 
rances were, in her judgment, only snares. Servan, 
who had a sombre temper, and the most splenetic 
pride, appeared to her energetic and incorruptible ; 
she mistook his passions for elevation of mind, and his 
hatred of the court for republican virtue. Lou vet, 



324 RECOLLECTIONS 

who had the same prejudices, became her hero. He 
possessed, it is true, wit, courage, and vivacity ; but 
I am at a loss to conceive how a virtuous woman could 
ever mistake the libertine author of Faublas for a 
severe republican. Madame Roland overlooked 
every fault in those who declaimed against courtiers, 
and believed that virtue was confined to hovels. 
She exalted very mediocre personages, such as Lan- 
thenas and Pache, merely because they professed the 
same opinion. I confess that, in my estimation, all 
this was any thing but attractive ; and it prevented 
me from cultivating an intimacy which I should have 
sought with eagerness, had I then known her as well 
as I did after her death. Her personal memoirs are 
admirable. They are an imitation of Rousseau's 
Confessions, and often not unworthy of the original. 
She exposes her innermost thoughts, and describes 
herself with a power and truth not to be found in 
any other work of the same description. A more 
extensive knowledge of the world was wanting to her 
intellectual development, and, perhaps, a more inti- 
mate acquaintance with men of sounder judgment 
than her own. None of those who visited her were 
raised above vulgar prejudices ; and this encouraged 
her in a disbelief of the possibility of an alliance 
between monarchy and freedom. She looked upon 
a king with the same horror as Mrs Macauley, whom 
she considered as a being superior to her sex. Had 



OF MIRABEAU. 325 

Madame Roland heen able to communicate to her 
party her own intrepidity and energy of mind, roy- 
alty would have been overthrown, but the jacobins 
would not have triumphed. 

Madame Roland's style was forcible and flowing, 
but she was too fond of writing, and was constantly 
urging her husband to do the same. Roland was the 
minister of writers. I have often fancied that fac- 
tions who pamphletize much, generally weaken them- 
selves in public estimation. Among such a multitude 
of writers, many are found who harass and irritate 
their opponents without serving their own cause ; 
and in such paper warfare, the party leaders acquire 
a habit of talking instead of acting, of discussing 
measures when they ought to be carrying them into 
execution, and of sacrificing at the altar of vulgar 
error, when they ought to soar above prejudice. 
Besides, they who write to cultivate the opinion of 
the moment, give themselves a very capricious mas- 
ter. One good journal would have done more real 
service to the Girondists, than the host of scribblers 
paid by the minister of the interior to enlighten, as 
he said, the nation and fix public opinion. 

The greatest reproach that can with justice be 
attached to Madame Roland, is, that she induced her 
husband to publish his confidential letter to the king, 
beginning thus: ^^ Sir, the contents of this letter 
shall never be known but to you and me.'" — On his 



326 RECOLLECTIONS 

dismissal from the ministry^ he could not resist the 
pleasure of a disguised revenge^ and he published his 
letter? containing prophetic menaces, without reflect- 
ing, perhaps, that these very menaces were likely to 
bring about a realization of his predictions, and that 
by pointing out publicly to the king all he had to 
fear from the people, he was suggesting to the latter 
what they ought to do against the king. 

Claviere was appointed minister of public contri- 
butions,* and I had the pleasure of seeing him at 
length attain to that point of elevation he had so 
long coveted, and for which he had struggled with 
such stubborn ambition. He was now at the sum- 
mit of his wishes. During ten long years he had 
toiled to force his way into the government of 
France; for he had all his life felt an instinctive 
anticipation of one day becoming a minister of state. 
When M. Necker was called to the ministry, Cla- 
viere, then a merchant at Geneva, could not help 
betraying the secret ambition of his heart to some 
of his intimate friends. In 1780, he went with 
Duroverai to Paris, about the affairs of the represen- 
tatives. Passing, one day, the hotel of the minister 
of finance, *^My heart tells me," said he, "that I 
shall inhabit that hotel some day or other. ^^ He 
laughed himself at a prophecy so unlikely ever to 

* The same as minister of finance. 



OF MIllAlJEAU. 327 

be realized, and Duroverai thought him a little de- 
ranged in intellect. Exiled by the king of France 
from the republic of Geneva, he went to Ireland 
with a view of establishing a Genevese colony there ; 
but having failed, he settled at Paris. Now, there 
was very little probability that an individual, driven 
from his native country by the French ministry, 
should ever become a member of that ministry ; — 
but men of ardent minds perceive means of success 
in those things which, to others, would seem imposs- 
ibilities. Claviere could write upon all financial 
questions, and was the author of almost all Mira- 
beau's works on finance. The confusion and disor- 
der in this branch of the administration showed him, 
in the distant horizon, an obscure perspective of 
calamity, which might, at no very distant period, 
render his services acceptable. His active imagi- 
nation had already given birth to a grand project for 
America. It consisted in forming a company to 
purchase a large tract of land, and found a colony 
upon the most liberal principles. Brissot went and 
surveyed the country; and this voyage, of which 
he published a relation, by no means damped his 
ardour for liberty under republican forms. On his 
return, he found France in a state to induce him to 
renounce this project ; for she seemed about to re- 
ceive that freedom which he and Claviere had in- 
tended to seek on the other side of the Atlantic. 



328 RECOLLECTIONS 

When the states- general were on the eve of assem- 
bling, Claviere published his work on keeping faith 
with the public creditor, which made him very 
popular with the holders of public stock. During 
the session of the national assembly, he connected 
himself with Mirabeau, whose influence he foresaw 
would be very great, and through whom he hoped 
to overthrow and succeed M. Necker. But he had 
made himself many enemies among the stock-jobbers 
and the directors of the caisse d^escompte. He was 
the inventor of assignats, and published on this sub- 
ject so great a number of pamphlets, that they 
would form several volumes. Necker did not fall 
from his high eminence, but slid, as it were, down a 
rapid slope ; and his departure was as clandestine as 
his return to office had been triumphant. But Mi- 
rabeau's power was not sufficient to create a minister, 
and Claviere remained in the crowd. It was Brissot 
— that Brissot whom Mirabeau had so much con- 
temned — who raised his friend to the ministry. 
The king, who knew Glaviere's history, and was con- 
scious of having driven him from his country, 'could 
not at first see him without distrust. He did not, 
however, show this feeling, and for some time 
treated Claviere \Vith very little attention ; but this 
coldness wore off by degrees, and at length he seem- 
ed to transact business with his new minister, not 
only without repugnance but with pleasure. 



OF MTllABEAU. 329 

At Geneva, Claviere had been one of the leaders 
of the popular party. Shrewd and penetrating, he 
obtained the credit of being also cunning and artful. 
He was a man of superior intellect. Deaf from his 
youth, and deprived, by this infirmity, of the plea- 
sures of society, he had sought a compensation in 
study, and formed his education by associating poli- 
tics and moral philosophy with trade. He was of a 
timid character and devoid of personal courage, and 
yet he found himself, all his life, in situations requir- 
ing physical intrepidity. It seemed as if his mind 
and constitution did not act in conjunction, for he 
always attacked arbitrary power, though he trembled 
at the danger which he thereby incurred. To him 
might be applied what Madame de Flahault said of 
Sieyes: that he was the most enterprising coward in 
the world. He was fond of being placed in difficult 
and uneasy situations, and yet was terrified at the 
consequences. He used to say, that if political dis- 
putes in a free state did harm, they did still more 
good, because they placed every one in a situation 
much more agreeable than the insipidity of repose. 
He could, when he chose, praise even anarchy, and 
find ingenious sophisms to defend it. His activity 
was prodigious. He rose in the middle of the nighc, 
wrote fifty pages, took an hour's repose, then followed 
his private aifairs. His style was too diffuse ; it de- 
noted a want of literature and elementary education. 
2 R 



330 RECOLLECTIONS 

In spite of his republicanism, he was fond of luxury 
and display ; and there was a singular contrast be- 
tween his love of splendour and the severity of his 
principles; but he never satisfied this taste for 
sumptuous living at the expense of probity, and in 
money matters he was always irreproachable. His 
elevation to the ministry had an effect upon him 
which shows that his mind was cast in no common 
mould — he became more modest and affable, although 
he had never been haughty or presumptuous. His 
new dignity was perceptible only by an increase of 
simplicity and kindness ; and in this he was very 
different from Brissot, whose attainment of the great 
influence he enjoyed, had turned his brain, and he 
no longer spoke but in oracles, and could not bear 
contradiction. 

Claviere found his offices in excellent order. 
They had been formed on the new plan, and with 
the greatest care and trouble, by his predecessor, 
Tarbe, upon whom he bestowed such encomiums as 
almost seemed to hold him up to public regret. 
This is not the characteristic of a vulgar mind.* 

He possessed all the domestic virtues, and his inter- 
course with his friends became more easy and plea- 

* Claviere, seeing the immense expense of the services of the 
nobles, who vi^ere paid according to their rank and not their 
office, observed, " This is like getting potatoes cultivated by a 
Dutch florist instead of a common gardener."— iV'ote byDumont. 



OF MIKABEAU. 331 

sant when he had arrived at the height of his am- 
bition. 

He was naturally of a warm temper, and not free 
from a species of bluntness ; but this was entirely 
constitutional, and did not originate in pride. It 
was like the anger of a child, soon appeased and for- 
gotten. 

He was of opinion, after he became a member of 
the cabinet, and had opportunities of judging, that 
the king's intentions were pure, and he did not hesi- 
tate to say so. I have heard many disputes upon 
this point, and I recollect one in particular, which 
took place at Roland's in the presence of several 
Girondist deputies. Claviere was relating that the 
king had convicted him of being unacquainted with 
a particular clause in the constitution ; that he had 
pulled out his book from his pocket, and said with a 
smile as he showed Claviere the passage, '^^ There, 
M. Claviere, you see I am better acquainted with it 
than you." As Claviere continued to speak in praise 
of the king, Brissot became angry, and having begun 
with sarcasms soon came to imputations. A very 
angry discussion took place, and I once feared that it 
would end in a rupture. Claviere appealed to Ro- 
land, who was afraid either to confirm or contradict 
what he said. He feared, should he dare to be just 
towards the king, whose minister he was, to pass for 
a weak man who had suffered himself to be seduced. 
I approached Madame Roland, who was at her desk 



332 RECOLLECTIONS 

and pretended to be writing. She was pale and 
trembling with agitation. I urged her to come for- 
ward and put an end to the quarrel. "Do you 
think I ought?" said she, hesitating; and then with 
much address and suavity of manner, she managed to 
change the conversation, and prolong it sufficiently 
to give the two friends time to become calm. 

Madame Claviere would fain have become a second 
Madame Roland, but she possessed only in vanity 
that which Madame Roland had in talent and cou- 
rage. In her I saw one of the miracles of royal 
power. When her husband was appointed to the 
ministry, she was in a dying state; a nervous fever 
left scarcely any hopes of saving her life ; — but the 
physician said, ''^ I can now answer for her cure, and 
in four days, you shall see her leave her bed to show 
off at the hotel of public contributions." This pre- 
diction was verified, and the joy and novelty of her 
situation Operated with better effect than all the 
remedies that medical skill could devise. 

Characters are easily drawn when you have to 
satisfy your readers only; but to the writer who sub- 
mits them to the test of his own recollections, and is 
anxious to give a faithful account of the persons 
whom he best knew, nothing is more difficult. The 
human heart is such a medley of good and evil, mo- 
tives are so hidden, and each individual so complica- 
ted, that there is always something incommunicable. 
A certain portion must escape observation ; every 



OF MIRABEAU. ''333 

thing cannot be given an account of, and it is im- 
possible to transmit the whole of what is felt. 

I have now only general recollections ; facts, 
speeches, anecdotes — a thousand singular details of 
this stormy period have gone from my memory. 
Had I kept a journal of this sojourn at Paris, placed 
as I was in the midst of a political party, and intimate 
with all the ministers, I should now have materials 
for an interesting work. I seldom went to the legis- 
lative assembly, whose members were more incohe- 
rent and prejudiced than those of the constituent 
assembly. There was no Mirabeau ; but each party 
had distinguished speakers. Amongst the Giron- 
dists, Guadet was noticed for his talent of seizing a 
favourable opportunity, and his powers of sophistry ; 
Gensonne for his acuteness and subtlety ; Vergniaud, 
who appeared only on grand occasions, was roused 
from his habitual indolence, by the impassioned 
workings of his scorching and terrible eloquence.* 

* The Girondists may be considered in two points of view. 
As avowed enemies of the king and constitution, they incurred 
the most merited reproaches; as enemies of Robespierre and 
the jacobins, their loss must be deplored, and their destruction 
involved France in the most dreadful misfortunes. As subjects 
of a monarchy they were highly criminal ; as republicans they 
had honourable qualities ; and if the historian blames their con- 
duct prior to the 10th of August, he will comparatively esteem 
them after that period, and deplore both their elevation and 
their fall. — Note by Dumont. 



334 RECOLLECTIONS 



CHAPTER XXL 



I HAVE reserved for this chapter, the most important 
point, the only one indeed belonging to history ; I 
mean the declaration of war against Austria. 

The memoirs of Duraouriez upon his own adminis- 
tration are generally very correct, and yet there are 
reticences in them. I much regret, on this account, 
not having kept notes. 

Brissot had long been desirous of a rupture with 
Austria. His Cabinet Jlutrichien excited his ima- 
gination, and open hostility appeared to him prefera- 
ble to that state of obscurity and intrigue which then 
existed. The court of Vienna scarcely condescend- 
ed any longer to give pretences to its manoeuvres, 
and yet was not determined to go to war. I am per- 
suaded that a display of firmness, moderation and de- 
corum with that court, would have averted the storm. 
The constitution was yet a species of unknown, a 
new being which created alarm ; tact and address 
were required to make it respected and insure its 



OF MIRABEAU. 335 

pardon for the crime of innovation; but unfortunate- 
ly it was always made formidable, and the violence 
of the jacobins rendered it odious. Had the Giron- 
dists shown themselves desirous of conciliating the 
good will of the king, they would have disarmed the 
whole of Europe, rendered the emigrants ridiculous, 
and maintained the peace of the country. There 
was so little unison between the other powers, and so 
little disposed were they to act in conjunction, that 
with some slight diplomatic manoeuvring France 
would have had nothing to fear. Such was the 
opinion of the moderate party, and I am convinced 
they were right. 

Brissot and Dumouriez thought otherwise. The 
former w^as so violent that I once heard him propose 
to disguise a body of French soldiers as Austrians 
and make them attack some French villages during 
the night ; and that on receiving intelligence of this 
attack, a motion should be made in the legislative 
assembly and the question of war carried by a decree 
of enthusiasm. Had I not heard him make this 
proposal, I should not have believed it. Dumouriez 
was a less impetuous and more able statesman. He 
also wished for war , but he found in the conduct of 
Austria herself, a sufficient justification of hostilities, 
and an imprudent answer from the court of Vienna 
put into his hands a reasonable pretence for their 
commencement. I can affirm that his colleagues were 



336 RECOLLECTIONS 

not of the same opinion. One day they had dined 
at the hotel of the war minister, and impatient of 
knowing their determination, L went there at six 
o'clock in the evening. Dumouriez was gone, but 
the table was covered with maps of the Netherlands. 
He had explained to them his plan of campaign. 
They looked serious and embarrassed. De Graves had 
a personal dread of the responsibility, and Roland 
and Claviere were neither of them warriors. The 
former gave the preference to negociations which 
brought with them no risk ; the latter, who knew the 
state of the finances, was aware that they had neither 
money nor credit, that the taxes and imposts were 
considerably in arrears and their collection difficult. 
Brissot was radiant with joy, and said that war alone, 
by showing who were the friends and who the ene- 
mies of the constitution, could place liberty on a sure 
foundation and detect the perfidy of the court. De 
Graves anticipated danger from the army ; he feared 
the desertion of the superior officers, for the most of 
the military men of any talent had already emigrated. 
Neither, however, dared oppose Dumouriez, who by 
the ascendency of his energetic mind, obtained all he 
wished. He saw abundant resources for carrying on 
the war, and represented, in the strongest light, the 
necessity of counteracting the plans of the House of 
Austria and other sovereigns of Europe, before they 
had time to concert the means of carrying them into 



OP MIRABEAU. 337 

execution. Both parties in the council were equally 
active. I remember that in reply to the objection of 
the superior officers deserting, Duchatelet said that 
if so, they would be replaced by the subalterns, who 
were much better qualified. " There is the same 
difference between them," he said, " as between 
amateurs and artists ; and if all the old officers left 
us, we should only derive benefit from it. There 
would be more emulation in the army, and we should 
find generals among our private soldiers." 

From dining often at Claviere's, Roland's and De 
Graves's, where I had met Dumouriez, I had become 
intimate with him. These dinner parties were en- 
livened by that gay and brilliant wit, which the 
French, when assembled in convivial intercourse, 
retain even under the most difficult circumstances, 
and which was natural to men satisfied with them- 
selves and flattered by their elevation to the highest 
offices in the state. The present hid the future from 
their sight ; the cares of office were for a short time 
forgotten, and each was settled in his hotel as if he 
were destined to occupy it for ever. Madame Ro- 
land, in allusion to the magnificence of the apart- 
ments, observed, that in her eyes it was only the 
splendour of a public inn. Louvet and Dumouriez, 
by their wit, conversation, and talents, were the life 
and delight of these parties. I remember, one day, 
Dumouriez was giving an account of some deeds of 
2s 



338 RECOLLECTIONS 

gallantry of which he was himself the hero, w^hen 
Claviere said to him archly, " Take care what you 
say, general, you are making Baptiste smile.'' Bap- 
tiste was the valet- de-chaYnhre whom Dumouriez has 
rendered so famous by the mention he makes of him 
in his memoirs. The general relished a joke and 
made himself very merry at the austerity of his col- 
leagues. His vivacity was sometimes nearly allied to 
levity, and his age and office required a somewhat 
more serious turn. He found himself connected with 
pedants, and soon became disgusted with their repub- 
lican morality. No confidence ever existed between 
him and his colleagues, but he managed to avoid dis- 
cussion, and a smart repartee often put an end to, or 
prevented disputes. He had ready wit, a piercing 
look, and prompt decision. Whilst he was minister, 
his bon-mots were circulated and quoted. He heard 
all that was said in company ; and guessed that which 
he did not- hear: by which means he contrived to 
make his presence entertaining to the king, whilst 
that of his heavy colleagues was tedious and disgust- 
ing. But amid his jests and merry conceits in the 
council, he steadily pursued his plan and acquireda 
decided ascendency. 

One day he begged I would breakfast with hira. 
He w^anted to read over with me that famous report 
to the king in council, in which he set forth the 
wrongs of Austria towards France. This produc- 



OF MIRABEAU. 339 

tion, which he had dictated to his secretary in great 
haste and amid constant interruption, was very in- 
correct in style, and he wished me, on that account, 
to go over it with him. In his frequent digressions, 
I perceived his enmity to the prince of Kaunitz, the 
pleasure he would derive from humiliating him, and 
his antipathy to the Austrian alliance. ^^Now," 
said he, after we had done reading the report, ^^the 
service I want you to do for me, is to write a speech 
for the king, for I am not an adept in the style of 
dignity and moderation. '^ " Very willingly," I 
replied, *^ if the conclusion be not in favour of war; 
that is to say, if your object be simply to make the 
assembly authorize the king to declare war in the 
event of his being unable to obtain full satisfaction 
from the emperor." — "The conclusion," said Du- 
mouriez, "can be settled only in the council. In 
the meantime, write the speech, point out the rea- 
sons of complaint we have against Austria, and we 
will then see about the rest." I mentioned the cir- 
cumstance to Duroverai ; the speech was written 
and a conclusion added to it, of which I have not 
kept a copy, but the substance of which was that 
the king, after exhibiting reasonable grounds of com- 
plaint, demanded the sanction of the assembly to 
declare war against the king of Bohemia and Hun- 
gary, unless the latter put an immediate stop to the 
assembling of large bodies of French emigrants with- 



340 RECOLLECTIONS 

in his territories, and gave satisfactory explanations 
relative to certain official notes, &c. When I next 
saw Dumouriez, he informed me that the council 
had determined upon, not a conditional, but a posi-' 
tive and immediate war, and that the low countries 
were to be attacked before they could be put in a 
state of defence ; that the speech I had written for 
the king had been read to him in council, but he 
had found it too long, and had composed one himself 
much more in unison with the result of their delib- 
eration. 

It is known how the legislative assembly, after 
having prudently deferred their decision in order to 
take time to consider so serious a proposal as the de- 
claration of war, on a sudden, at a single evening 
sitting, and after only two or three deputies had spo- 
ken, voted a decree which plunged France and 
Europe into a gulf of misery. 

It may be said that Brissot and Dumouriez were 
merely the organs of the national will, as there were 
only seven or eight votes against war; but it ap- 
peared to me very certain at the time, that if they 
had adopted the opinion in favour of delay, they 
would have been supported by an absolute unan- 
imity. People's minds were floating in uncertainty; 
and the opinion of every one was influenced by the 
decision of the council. I heard influential men, 
who, the day before, trembled at the idea of war, 



OF MIRABEAU. 341 

declare it to be absolutely necessary. Condorcet 
disapproved of it, yet he voted for it ; so did Cla- 
viere, and Roland, and de Graves and many others 
under the same feelings. The inconsistency between 
opinion and action, which so often occurs when a 
government decides, or when the leaders of a party 
have taken their determination, is inconceivable to 
those who have not closely studied the workings of 
popular passions. 

But in making this recital, I had forgotten my 
fellow-travellers, to whom it is now time to return. 
Duroverai fell ill a few days after our arrival, and 
was confined to his room for nearly a month. M. 
de Talleyrand had resumed his former mode of life 
and I saw him but seldom. After Dumouriez had 
obtained the portfolio of foreign aifairs, the Giron- 
dists pressed him to appoint an embassy to England 
and to select, as ambassador, a man who would inspire 
confidence; for it was expedient, by strengthening 
those ties of amity which had been somewhat re- 
laxed by the events of the revolution, to prevent 
Great Britain from taking part in a continental war. 
Talleyrand appeared the man best qualified for the 
mission. It is true that the Girondists were preju- 
diced against him, but — and this was a full com- 
pensation — he was quite out of favour at court. 
Unfortunately the law did not allow of his accepting 
an appointment from the king, and this proved an 



342 RECOLLECTIONS 

obstacle which there was some difficulty in overcom- 
ing. At length an expedient was hit upon ; which 
was to appoint an ambassador who would be satisfied 
with the honour of the title and consent to be gov- 
erned by Talleyrand. Chauvelin, who was very 
young and had plunged into the revolution with all 
the ardour of a boy, was proposed by Sieyes. The 
appointment was so far above his expectations that 
he immediately assented. The Girondists by an 
excess of precaution, wanted to get Duroverai ap- 
pointed counsellor of legation, but there were difficul- 
ties which prevented the title from being conferred 
upon him. He had the advantage of being well 
acquainted with England, its customs and language, 
and such a choice must naturally prove agreeable to 
the English government, because Duroverai, natu- 
ralized in Ireland and in the receipt of a pension from 
the Irish government, might be considered as more 
attached to Grealt Britain by a permanent interest 
than to France by a precarious public appointment ; 
and it would seem evident that he had accepted such 
appointment in the French legation, only in the 
persuasion that the mission was essentially of a paci- 
fic nature, and that its sole object was to strengthen 
the ties of friendship between the two nations. 

It was this naturalization and this Irish pension 
which formed the obstacle against Duroverai's ob- 
taining the title of counsellor of legation. The diffi- 



OF MIRABEAU. 343 

culty was insurmountable and they were obliged to 
give him the office without the title. Talleyrand, 
who had already been able to appreciate the benefit 
of his counsels, ardently desired to have him as a co- 
adjutor. In order that he might be accredited, at 
least indirectly, his name was mentioned in a letter 
to Lord Grenville, as well as in the instructions giv- 
en to Chauvelin. All these arrangements occasioned 
much delay ; and the slowness with which the embas- 
sy to England seemed to be formed, led to complaints 
out of doors. When at length all appeared termi- 
nated, a scruple of self-love seized upon Chauvelin. 
He perceived that a great title was conferred upon 
him, but that he was deprived of the real power; and 
he found himself just like a young man sent to a 
foreign court under the care of a couple of tutors. 
Such a thing appeared to him so humiliating that he 
refused to go. Talleyrand exhausted all his powers 
of persuasion in vain, bat Duroverai was more suc- 
cessful. He opposed self-love to self-love. He 
represented to Chauvelin, that by such an appoint- 
ment at his age, he was already raised to the highest 
diplomatic rank, to which, in the ordinary course of 
events, he certainly would not have attained for 
many years. In the midst of these delays, Dumou- 
riez, who began to be out of patience, sent for me. 
"I do not understand," said he, ^^ the conduct of 
your friends. The members of the embassy have 



344 RECOLLECTlOlSfS 

been appointed this fortnight past, and they do not 
yet think of going. M. de Talleyrand is amusing 
himself — M. Chauveiin is sulky — and M. Duroverai 
is driving a bargain. Do me the favour to tell them 
that if by to-morrow evening they are not on the 
road to England, another embassy shall be appointed 
and shall start the day after before noon. This is 
my ultimatum. ^^ I immediately ran to find the par- 
ties, and as they were somewhat dispersed, it was 
several hours before I could bring theoi together. 
They all knew that Dumouriez would keep his word ; 
for he had a relative whom he was desirous of ap- 
pointing to the English embassy, their nomination 
having been a mere friendly concession to Claviere 
and the Girondist party. These circumstances had 
their due weight, and the time of departure was de- 
finitively fixed. 

Two days after, at four o'clock in the morning, the 
whole legation left Paris in two carriages. Besides 
the persons already named, we had Garat and Reyn- 
hart. We alternately changed carriages, and had 
thus the pleasure of giving variety to our journey, 
which passed very gaily. Chauveiin was very en- 
tertaining when his self-love was not in play. What 
a numberof curious anecdotes did I hear, and how 
valuable would they have been, if I had taken the 
precaution of collecting them in writing ! I thought 
only of enjoying the pleasant company I was in, the 



OF MIRABEAU. 345 

fine weather and the conversation of Garat? in whom 
I found more candour, and true simplicity, and kind- 
ness of heart than I had expected from one who had 
spent his whole life in the very furnace of literary 
bel-esprit^ which is, in general, so unfavourable to 
the qualities of the heart. Literature, so neglected 
at Paris for two or three years past, and so foreign 
to the taste of the society of that period, often formed 
the subject of our conversations. Garat was not a 
man of deep learning, but brilliant and amiable. He 
narrated beautifully j and he now felt gay and happy, 
after having been so long and so closely confined to 
his literary labours at Paris, amid the lamentable 
scenes of the revolution. The delight of leisure and 
fresh air, together with the expectation of seeing 
that England which he did not know, but admired by 
anticipation, imparted an elastic and delightful bril- 
liancy to his imagination. " He is a schoolboy going 
home for the holidays," said M. de Talleyrand. On 
our arrival at Dover, Garat got upon the coach-box, 
and I followed his example. Having adjusted his 
spectacles, he began to examine every thing with as 
eager a curiosity as if we had just arrived in the 
moon. The most trifling differences affected him to 
a singular degree. He uttered the most amusing ex- 
clamations on the small cottages, the little gardens, 
the cleanliness which every where existed, the beau- 
ty of the children, the modest appearance of the 
2 T 



346 RECOLLECTIONS 

country girls, ami the clean and decent apparel of 
the inhabitants of the country villages ; in a word, 
this appearance of ease and prosperity, which formed 
so strong a contrast with the poverty and rags of the 
peasants of Picardy, struck him forcibly. I was 
proud of doing the honours of the country, and I 
thought I was again looking at these things for the 
first time, so greatly did my seeing him admire them 
increase their impression upon me. " Ah ! what a 
pity," said he, " what a pity, if ever this fine coun- 
try should be revolutionized ! When will France be 
as happy as England?" His enthusiasm was fed 
with every thing and increased spontaneously ; but 
it was that kind of enthusiasm which evaporates in 
words and does not become concentrated. 

Although I often saw Garat during his residence 
in England, and we lived on very familiar terms in 
our circle at the embassy, I never contracted any 
particular intimacy with him. There was something 
in our characters which -prevented them from har- 
monizing with each other. He seemed to me a 
kind, easy, amiable man, full of good and philan- 
thropic intentions. I sought him out for the pleasure 
of his conversation, and thought no more of him 
when he was gone. He amused but did not interest 
me. He had planned a history of the revolution, 
and he meditated upon this event solely as regarded 
the manner of relating it in his book. " What think 



OF MIRABEAU. 347 

you Garat sees in the revolution of the 10th of Au- 
gust?" said M. de Talleyrand to me; ^^ only a fine 
page for his history." When he became an actor 
in the scenes of the revolution, and played the part 
of minister of justice, in which he incurred such 
general censure, I am convinced that his heart bled 
at the evils with which he had associated himself. 
He wanted courage, — was weak and vain ; and he 
was rash enough to undertake an office beyond his 
strength, which act of imprudence and vanity he 
expiated by the remorse of his whole life. If there 
be men who are detested for the ill they commit, 
there are others who ought to be pitied for the evil 
to which they lend themselves. What he can never 
justify, is his defence of the massacres of the 2nd of 
September, and no thoughtlessness or levity of cha- 
racter can palliate such an act of weakness. It was 
then thought that the sanguinary monsters would be 
softened by making them appear less ferocious than 
they really were ; that absolution for the past con- 
ferred a right to give them lessons in humanity for 
the future. It was like saying to them, ^^ give not 
way to the despair of ferocity. We are disposed to 
believe you innocent, in order that you may not be 
led to commit new crimes !" 

If between Garat and me there existed no ten- 
dency to friendship, this was not the case with Gal- 
lois, who had accompanied M. de Talleyrand in his 



348 RECOLLECTIONS 

first visit to London, and remained there during our 
excursion to Paris. The most intimate confidence 
was established between us, and we sought each 
other's society for the sole pleasure of being together. 
Gallois is the least accessible to vanity of any literary 
Frenchman I ever knew. He loves study for his 
own enjoyment, and not as a means of making a 
figure. He considers legislation and political econ- 
omy as sciences which ought to be cultivated for the 
happiness of mankind, and has never appeared to 
look upon them as a road to fortune or fame ; at 
least, fortune and fame are with him but secondary 
objects — mere quiet accessories which do not excite 
the passions. With an affectionate heart, and much 
mildness and elegance of manners, he is a man of 
strong mind and correct conduct. He says little in 
a numerous company, but becomes animated in a 
small circle of friends. I had made him acquainted 
with all my particular friends, who became his, and 
preserved the same feelings towards him after he had 
left England. Though he had taken ^ no pains to 
make acquaintances, he had gained the esteem of 
many. I afterwards found him the self same being 
at Paris, wise for himself and irreproachable for the 
whole world, after he had safely weathered the 
storm of the revolution. 

This embassy, whose sole object was to obtain a 
settled and permanent peace with England, was very 



OF MIRABEAU. 349 

coldly received by the court, and almost with insult 
by the public. Chauvelin was libelled in several 
papers and accused of having worn the disguise of a 
poissarde in the famous affair at Versailles of the 6th 
of October. A circumstance which, at first, did him 
a great deal of harm, was the ill-judged zeal of Perry 
of the Morning Chronicle, who thought he was doing 
the French embassy a service by pompously enume- 
rating the individuals of whom it was composed. 

He saw, in the selection of its members, an extra- 
ordinary mark of attention on the part of the French 
government. First there was M. Chauvelin, then 
M. de Talleyrand, then M. Duroverai, next M. 
Garat a distinguished man of letters, M. Gallois, re- 
markable for talents and knowledge, M. Reynhart 
secretary of legation, and M. de Talleyrand's grand- 
vicar ; and all these distinguished individuals formed 
a legation of writers and literary men such as was 
never before seen. The simple truth is, that M. de 
Talleyrand, fond of the society of men of talent, had 
contrived to get two or three to accompany him to 
England ; and in procuring the appointments of Ga- 
rat and Gallois, he had thought only of himself, and 
had no public object in view. But the number and 
talents of the persons whose nomination Perry men- 
tioned as a compliment paid to England, raised the 
suspicion and mistrust of a great portion of the pub- 



350 RECOLLECTIONS 

lie. It was imagined that the real object of all this 
was the propagation of revolutionary systems and 
opinions, and the members of this embassy were 
looked upon as missionaries come to make converts. 
Chauvelin had soon occasion to perceive the coolness 
of the court. One day, Pitt placed himself between 
the king and the French ambassadorj and turned his 
back upon the latter in the most pointed manner. 
Chauvelin, annoyed at this, moved so as to turn wil- 
fully upon Pitt's toes, and pressed so hard as to force 
the English minister to draw further back. Romilly, 
on being consulted about the numerous injurious 
paragraphs which appeared in the ministerial jour- 
nals under all the forms which malignity could invent 
when they, who direct the politics of the paper, 
point out some object to hunt down and persecute, 
gave them the draft of a strong denial of every ca- 
lumnious accusation, with a challenge to prove any 
of the revolutionary acts or intentions imputed to 
them, and a threat to prosecute the authors of the 
libels. But Lord L . . . . advised them to despise 
these attacks, which would only be consolidated and 
rendered of more importance by answering them. 
One imprudence which they committed, was to meet 
the advances of the opposition. They visited Mr 
Fox and Mr Sheridan, soon saw no other society than 
these eminent men and their friends, and this proved 



OF MIRABEAU. 351 

a bar of separation between them and the ministerial 
party. 

I remember that, soon after their arrival in Lon- 
don, during the fine weather, when Ranelagh was in 
high fashion and much frequented, I dined one day 
at Chauvelin's, when it was proposed to finish the 
evening at this place of fashionable resort. It is a 
large round hall surrounded with open closets, like 
the boxes of a theatre, with an orchestra in the cen- 
tre. The company walk all round, and enter the 
closets or boxes for refreshments. On our arrival, a 
buzz of voices repeated, " there is the French em- 
bassy.'' Looks of curiosity, certainly not of a benevo- 
lent kind, were directed from all sides upon our bat- 
talion, consisting of eight or ten individuals; and we 
soon found that we should have the place entirely to 
ourselves, for all withdrew on our approach, as if 
they feared contagion even in the atmosphere which 
surrounded us. Our battalion became the more re- 
markable because it stood in a vacuum which it in- 
creased as it moved forward. One or two bold 
individuals came and spoke to M. Chauvelin and M. 
de Talleyrand. A moment after, we saw a man 
shunned from another cause ; this was the Duke of 
Orleans, whom every one seemed to avoid with the 
most sedulous care. Annoyed and disgusted at being 
the object of this unpleasant attention, we separated 



352 RECOLLECTIONS v 

for a short time, and I got into the crowd, where I 
heard several persons giving, in their own way, an 
account of this French embassy. We withdrew 
shortly after, M. de Talleyrand no way moved at 
what had occurred, but M. Chauvelin much affected. 



OF MIRABEAU. 353 



CHAPTER XXII. 



It is not my intention to give an account of the di- 
plomatic occurrences connected with M. Chauvelin's 
mission. All that I know concerning them is the 
result of confidential communication; and were I 
even base enough to betray such confidence, I should 
find it difficult to give a connected narrative. But 
I can positively state that the nature of the mission 
was wholly pacific ; its object was to draw the ties 
of amity closer betwixt the two nations. Such were 
the instructions given to the members of the embassy, 
and great injustice was done to the latter in imputing 
to them secret views and base intrigues with the 
malcontents. I lived so constantly with Duroverai, 
dined so often with M. de Talleyrand and M. Chau- 
velin, and was so confidentially intimate with both, 
that nothing could have been done without my per- 
ceiving it, and I have the most positive certainty that 
nothing which could give the least ground of alarm 
was going on in secret. The embassy were much 
2 u 



354 RECOLLECTIONS 

alarmed at the reserve of the English ministers and 
the formal coldness of the cabinet. All that my 
memory has retained of this period is the recollection 
of a delightful society, some very pleasant dinner 
parties, and the happiness of finding myself in France 
and England at the same time — that is to say, enjoy- 
ing alternately a select party of either nation. 

Garat was not entirely idle in England j he wrote 
a refutation of a manifesto against France by the 
government of the Low Countries. In this work of 
Garat's, the French revolution was justified and the 
violence by which it was attended lamented as a de- 
plorable misfortune. 

In France, meanwhile, the animosity of the dif- 
ferent factions against the court became more viru- 
lent every day; the Girondists made their attacks 
insidiously, the Jacobins by open force. The first 
events of the war with Austria were unfortunate, 
and this was imputed to the treachery of the execu- 
tive power. On the 13th of June, Roland, Claviere 
and Servan were dismissed from ofiGice ; on the 20th, 
the invasion of the Tuileries took place, and the king 
was threatened and insulted in his palace; and 
twenty days after, namely, on the 10th of August, 
this same palace was stormed by the Marseillais. 

The invasion of the 10th of August was another 
of those striking occasions on which the king, by 
suddenly changing his character and assuming firm- 



OF MIRABEAU. 355 

Mess, might have recovered his throne. The mass 
of the French people were weary of the excesses of 
the Jacobins, and the outrage of the 20th of June 
roused the general indignation. Had he acted with 
vigour, used force against force, and then taken ad- 
vantage of the first moments of the victory he must 
have gained, to treat the Jacobins and Girondists as 
enemies — for they having, in a thousand instances, 
violated the constitution, could no longer have ap- 
pealed to it in their defence ; — had he ordered the 
clubs of the Jacobins and Cordeliers to be shut up, 
dissolved the assembly, and seized upon the fac- 
tious, that day had restored his authority. But 
this weak prince, unmindful that the safety of his 
kingdom depended upon the preservation of his own 
authority, chose rather to expose himself to certain 
death than give orders for his defence. 

When this event took place, M. de Talleyrand 
was at Paris. He had quitted London some weeks 
previous, and had asked me to accompany him ; but 
this time I was prudent enough to decline a journey 
which, being without a personal object, would have 
given me the appearance of dabbling in politics and 
state intrigue ; for I was so well known that I could 
no longer indulge in my curiosity and roving pro- 
pensities without giving rise to such inferences. I 
had good reason to congratulate myself upon this act 
of prudence, when, in my peaceful abode, I reflected 



356 RECOLLECTIONS 

upon the horrors in the midst of which I should have 
found myself, and the unfavourable surmises to which 
my conduct might have led, among my friends in 
England. M. de Talleyrand required all his dex- 
terity and means of persuasion to obtain from Danton 
a passport to return to London, after the events of 
the 10th of August. Had he remained a few days 
longer at Paris, he would have been comprised in 
the destruction of the constitutionalists, who, in an 
almost incredibly short space of time, fell under the 
axe of the guillotine. 

In the month of November of the same year, 1792, 
I was called to Paris by an object of duty. This 
was no idle, wandering journey, but a service de- 
manded by the magistrates of Geneva ; and I under- 
took it without hesitation. 

Savoy was threatened with an invasion by France, 
and a French army was on the frontiers of that state. 
Geneva had taken the precaution, adopted in time 
of war, of applying to the canton of Berne, as was 
the custom, for a reinforcement of troops. The 
Bernese had isent several regiments to strengthen 
the weak garrison of Geneva, and enable it to sup- 
port the double fatigue of service necessary in a 
fortified city surrounded by the troops of foreign 
belligerent powers. The government of France, 
then conducted by Roland, Claviere, Servan and a 
committee of the legislative assembly, had affected 



OF MIRABEAU, 357 

to take the alarm at this call for Swiss troops. They 
pretended to perceive hostility to France in a pre- 
caution only intended by Geneva to make its neu- 
trality respected ; and, without considering that the 
Swiss were themselves allies of France, and that 
their co-operating in the protection of Geneva, 
could not therefore tend to any act of hostility, 
became loud in their complaints, and instructed 
their general, M. de Montesquiou, to call upon the 
Genevese magistrates to send back these troops, and, 
in the event of a refusal, to lay siege to Geneva. In 
the first moment of alarm, the Scyndics of Geneva 
wrote to M. Tronchin, the accredited agent of the 
republic, to engage Duroverai and me to proceed to 
Paris, and endeavour to arrange matters with the 
French ministry, with whom our connection was 
known. Duroverai being obliged to attend to his du - 
ties at the French embassy, I determined to go to Paris 
alone, but had the prudence to take precautions 
against improper surmises, by making the English 
government acquainted with the object of my jour- 
ney. M. Tronchin laid the letter from the Scyn- 
dics before Lord Grenville, and easily obtained for 
me the permission I requested. He likewise de. 
manded that a passport might be delivered to me, 
which would contribute to ray safety in France ; 
but not having been naturalized in England, this 
passport was refused. 



358 RECOLLECTIONS 

One of my fellow travellers in the stage coach 
from London, was a quaker, whose name I have for- 
gotten. Though of a more communicative temper 
than most of his brethern, he did not make me ac- 
quainted with the object of his journey to Paris. I 
discovered it at the municipality of Calais. We 
went there together, and he pulled out a passport, 
which had been sent to him in Ireland, from France. 
It was in Roland's own hand writing, and contained 
a particular injunction to aid and assist the bearer, 
whose journey to France was connected with an ob- 
ject of beneficence and humanity. The quaker then 
hinted to me that he came in the name of his breth- 
ren, who had deemed the juncture favourable for 
making proselytes in France. I know not whether 
a quaker can diverge from truth, and did so in the 
present instance, in order to conceal some other po- 
litical object which he dared not mention ; but I knew 
Roland's enthusiasm sufficiently well, to think that 
he might have deemed republican France worthy of 
adopting quaker simplicity, and I was also aware that 
Brissot was in raptures at a doctrine which repre- 
sented true equality and all the primitive virtues. 

On my arrival at Paris, I found that Genevese af- 
fairs bore rather a favourable aspect. Montesquieu 
felt ashamed of attacking a free city, which had only 
used its right of self-preservation; and in his corres- 
pondence with the ministers, had defended the re- 



OF MIRABEAU. 359 

public, although he publicly used towards it threats 
which he did not mean to carry into execution. He 
had inspired the government of Geneva with confi- 
dence, and was himself their counsel. The negoci- 
ations were open, and conducted with much candour 
on both sides. He represented to the magistrates 
the necessity of sending away the Swiss troops as a 
first concession, without which he could do nothing 
for them ; but, at the same time, he would give them 
every possible guarantee, establish their indepen- 
dence in the strongest manner, and publicly admit 
that there was nothing in their conduct hostile to 
France. The first treaty to which this led them, 
was not ratified at Paris, because it appeared too 
favourable to the republic; and Montesquiou had 
been instructed to make the most unreasonable de- 
mands. When I arrived at Paris, a second treaty 
was then waiting for ratification. Claviere, who had 
incurred the bitterest reproaches, as the supposed 
author of these measures against his native country, 
seemed anxious to clear himself to me. He told me 
that he had not concurred in the decree hostile to 
the Syndics of Geneva, as on the day it was deter- 
mined upon, he had been prevented by ill health 
from attending the council. I seemed willingly to 
listen to his excuses, and observed that a favourable 
opportunity now presented itself, of sheltering him- 
self from all future reproach, by obtaining a ratifi- 



360 RECOLLECTIONS 

cation of the treaty. I also succeeded in bringing 
Brissot to the same way of thinking, although he had, 
in his Patriate Francais, been very violent against 
the Lilliputian republic, as he termed it. I repre- 
sented to Vergniaud, Guadet, Gensonne, and Condor- 
cet, the indignation felt in England at this attack 
made by republicans upon the weakest of republics 5 
and one which had done the greatest honour to free- 
dom. Others also contributed to soften the ministers 
and their party, and some consideration was still 
shown towards the Swiss. A few days after, the 
treaty was proposed at the legislative assembly, rati- 
fied without a dissenting voice, and the independence 
of the Genevese republic acknowledged by the most 
formal act. 

The person who, during this crisis, rendered the 
greatest services to Geneva, was M. Reybaz, who 
had succeeded M. Tronchin as minister of the re- 
public. Every thing in the council and the conven- 
tion, was done so abruptly, that measures were 
adopted and decrees passed, before he was aware of 
their being in contemplation ; and it was much more 
difficult to repair an evil than it would have been to 
anticipate it. His connexion with Claviere gave 
him some influence, but the Girondists fancied that 
he did not display a proper zeal in the cause of free- 
dom, because, when he voted with them, he had 
often blamed their measures. On the present occa- 



OF MIRABEAU, 361 

sion, he showed great activity in finding out what 
passed in the diplomatic committeej in forming a 
party there, and in getting votes. I regret having 
forgotten, or rather not sufficiently recollecting many 
particulars which I had from him, and which suffi- 
ciently depicted the character, ignorance, and wick- 
ed folly of the convention. He informed me that the 
true secret of the affectation of anger towards Gen- 
eva, displayed by the council, was their wanting a 
pretence for seizing the city and arsenal, in order 
to have a strong hold, which they could use against 
Savoy, and against the Swiss, whom they wished to 
intimidate. The prudent delays of Montesquiou, 
had counteracted the perfidious designs of these min- 
isters, who wanted to obtain possession of Geneva, 
without the disgrace of having ordered such a mea- 
sure, and who could have wished that their general 
had taken it by a coup- de-main, even though they 
should disavow his act, and dismiss him from their 
service. But they would have retained their con- 
quest. Such was the nature of the acts of vigour 
which the French government of that period expect- 
ed from its generals. There was at Geneva a party 
of discontented citizens who inveighed bitterly 
against the aristocracy and the government, and 
Montesquiou would only have had to second this 
party, present himself as the supporter of the true 
democrats; and as an excuse to his government for 
2 V 



362 RECOLLECTIONS 

this act, he had only to write a flaming letter to state, 
that as the avenger of freedom, he had destroyed a 
nest of aristocrats at Geneva. 

During the negociation, the Genevese council sent 
to Paris a citizen named Gasc, formerly very intimate 
with Claviere, and who, as a warm admirer of the 
French revolution, could insinuate himself more 
easily into the good graces of the members of the 
French government. Gasc was a man of talent*, a 
most expert arguer, with great sang-froid. His 
heart was never troubled by the operations of his 
head. I was at a loss to conceive how this precise 
mathematician, so devoid of warmth and sensibility, 
could have imbibed so ardent an enthusiasm in favour 
of French republicanism. Claviere related to me a 
scene at his house, in which Gasc proved himself a 
first-rate actor. His being an agent of the Genevese 
government was sufficient to stamp him as an aristo- 
crat, and the success of his mission required his get- 
ting rid of such an imputation. One day at a grand 
dinner given by Claviere to the Girondists, Lebrun 
the poet recited an ode to liberty with such lyric 
transport, that he produced a similar excitement in 
his auditors, and each strophe was received with 
cries of admiration. Gasc, upon whose mind the 
finest poetry had no effect, and who like Terrasson 
would have said — what does that prove ?— most pro- 
bably felt the greatest contempt for this enthusiasm. 



OF MIKABEAU. 363 

His phlegmatic calmness was soon remarked, and it 
gave the company a very unfavourable opinion of 
him. He remained silent and motionless in his arm- 
chair until, at the conclusion of the poem, he seemed 
suddenly roused from his apathy, and as if carried 
away by a feeling he could not control, threw him- 
self into the poet's arms and, his voice trembling 
with emotion and tears in his eyes, appeared a thou- 
sand times more affected than any one present. The 
company were struck with astonishment at a sen- 
sibility, compared to which their own transports 
seemed but as a transient ebullition of the moment. 
On leaving Claviere's hospitable board, the Giron- 
dists present, who were members of the diplomatic 
committee, took him with them, listened to him 
with the greatest confidence, and disposed other 
members in his favour. He knew how to combine 
the interests of the lesser republic with those of the 
greater ; and they were so struck with the wisdom 
of his conversation, and the perspicuity of his reason- 
ing, that after he had obtained his audience, they 
invited him to remain and discuss the affairs of Eu- 
rope with them. This occurred to him three or 
four days following ; nor was it the first instance I 
saw in France of such communicative disposition, 
such exuberant confidence. I recollect, during the 
existence of the first assembly, having, one day, at- 
tended the constitution-committee with Duroverai — 



3^4 RECOLLECTIONS 

I mean the committee who drew up the constitutional 
laws for the assembly ; — after having explained our 
business, which related to the guarantee of France 
for the execution of the Genevese treaty, the mem- 
bers politely begged that we would remain and dis- 
cuss with them the subject of their labours, observing 
that the presence of enlightened men was always an 
advantage to them, and that there were no secrets in 
their deliberations. 

The business which called me to Paris being set- 
tled, I prepared to return to London, and dining 
one day with Claviere, I informed him of my intended 
departure. Having, after dinner, remained talking 
to Gensonne, a member of the diplomatic committee, 
the latter asked me if I could give him any informa- 
tion concerning one Grenus, a native of Geneva, who 
had come to Paris upon a mission diametrically op- 
posed to mine, and had several times attended the 
committee to demand, in the name of a numerous 
party of Genevese, a union of Geneva with France. 
^^You think,*' said he, "that the treaty just ratified 
is conclusive, but I must warn you that there is a 
counter-plot going on, and our government does not 
yet despair of incorporating your republic with that 
of France. Grenus has pointed out the mode of 
effecting it. There will be a rising of the natives 
who call themselves egalitiens, or tiers- etat. These 
will be assisted by the peasantry, who are more nu- 



OF MIRABEAU. 365 

merous than the citizens. The latter will, no doubt, 
defend the magistrates ; and daring the conflict, the 
natives will claim the assistance of the French troops, 
who will appear at the gates of the city as if for the 
purpose of preventing bloodshed. The gates will 
then be opened to the French, who will immediately 
make themselves masters of the city, and proclaim 
the union of Geneva with France. Such," con- 
tinued Gensonne, ^^is the plan which Grenus has 
proposed. It has been neither refused nor accepted. 
For my own part, I prefer that your republic should 
remain as it is ; for I do not know what we should 
gain by this union, and I can well understand what 
you would lose. Do not betray my name, but make 
use of this secret, which I thought it my duty to re- 
veal to you, as you deem most advisable for the in- 
terests of your country. We have hitherto consid- 
ered Grenus as one of those adventurers with whom 
it is dangerous to make arrangements ; but he will be 
allowed to act, and if he succeeds and we once be- 
come masters of Geneva, we shall aifect to think that 
we were called thither by the whole body of the 
citizens, and you may easily imagine that no atten- 
tion will be paid to the claims of such a man. 

In possession of this alarming secret, I went to 
M. Reybaz to concert with him on the means of 
averting the threatened evil. The first step to be 
taken was to acquaint the government of Geneva 



366 RECOLLECTIONS 

with the plot of Grenus and his associates. It ap- 
peared to M. Reybaz expedient that I should pro- 
ceed thither. I had formerly been popular with 
the natives, and had rendered them services more 
than adequate to counterbalance, at least, the influ- 
ence of Grenus over the honest and well-intentioned 
members of this class of the people. 

Having determined upon ray immediate departure, 
I called upon M. Gasc, to whom I communicated my 
intention and secret. He told me that as he left the 
diplomatic coinmittee, he saw Grenus enter it, and 
that he suspected this individual of having come to 
Paris for the purpose of traversing his negociation. 
— Grenus, who had an estate in the country of Gex 
and was mayor of Great Sacconex, about a league 
from Geneva, had an evident interest in bringing his 
country under the French domination. He could 
not fail by such a service to obtain the confidence of 
the French government, and with it the mayoralty 
of the city he had delivered into their hands. But 
his true motive was to humiliate the Genevese, par- 
ticularly the upper classes, of which he was a mem- 
ber by birth, but from which his character and 
conduct had alienated him. In politics as in reli- 
gion, no enemies are more bitter than apostates. 
Grenus was the demagogue of the rabble, and de- 
rived continual amusement from the alarm which he 
inflicted upon the Genevese government, and the 



OF MIRABEAU. 367 

aristocrats, among whom were his own cordially 
hated relations. He took no pains to conceal the 
atrocity of his mind, no less intense from its being 
combined with pleasantry. A sardonic laugh played 
upon his features each time he succeeded in causing 
an insurrection among the peasants, and the days of 
alarm and terror in the republic were to him days 
of rejoicing. Surrounded by his low and crapulous 
associates, he exulted in the disorders he caused, 
and never failed to attend the great council of the 
two hundred, of which he was a member, to enjoy 
the fright attendant upon the tumult he had raised. 
Gasc, better acquainted than I with this Crispin- 
Catalina, had no difloiculty in believing Gensonne's 
communication, and thought, with M. Reybaz, that 
my immediate presence at Geneva was necessary to 
counteract the influence of Grenus over the natives, 
and induce the magistrates and citizens to adopt 
such measures as might be deemed most expedient 
under existing circumstances. 



THE END. 



APPENDIX. 



No. I. 

address to the king for the removal of the troops. 

Sire, 

By calling upon the assembly to testify their confidence 
in your majesty, you have anticipated their most anxious 
desire. 

We are come, sire, with respectful humility to acquaint 
your majesty with the alarms which agitate us. They 
regard not ourselves, sire ; — but had we even the weak- 
ness to fear on our own account, we are certain that your 
royal indulgence would still induce you to encourage and 
console us ; and further, that in blaming us for doubting 
your good intentions, you would, at the same time, listen 
to our complaints, remove their cause, and place the na- 
tional assembly upon a sure and unequivocal footing. 

Sire, we implore not your protection ; — it would be an 
offence to your justice. We have become a prey to fears 
which — and we say it with confidence — have their source 
in the purest patriotism, the interests of our constituents, 
the public tranquillity, and the happiness of a beloved 
2 w 



370 APPENDIX. 

monarch, who, in smoothing for us the path to felicity ,^ 
deserves himself to. walk in it without obstacle. 

The impulses of your own heart, sire, form the safeguard 
of your people ; and when we perceive troops approach- 
ing on all sides — when we see camps formed around us, 
and the metropolis surrounded by soldiers, we exclaim 
in astonishment : — Does our sovereign suspect the fidelity 
of his people ? If so, would he not make known his 
doubts to us their representatives ? What mean these 
menacing preparatives ? Where are the enemies of the 
state and king — where the rebels and leaguers against 
whom this formidable array is brought? . . . .The unani- 
mous voice of the metropolis and the whole kingdom 
answers : — We cherish our king, and we bless heaven 
for the gift of his affection ! 

Sire ! your majesty's confidence has been imposed 
upon, under pretence of the public weal. 

If they who counselled our king had confidence enough 
in their' principles to expose them before us, — it would 
lead to the most noble manifestation of truth. 

The state has nothing to fear but from false principles, 
which lay siege even to the throne itself, and respect not 
the confidence of the purest and most virtuous of princes. 
And by what base means, sire, have you been brought 
to doubt the love and affection of your subjects ? Have 
you been prodigal of their blood ? Are you cruel or 
implacable ? Have you prostituted the name of justice ? 
Do the people impute to you their misfortunes ? — is your 
name ever associated with their calamities ? Have you 



APPENDIX. 371 

been told that the people are impatient of your yoke, — 
that they are tired of the sceptre of the Bourbons ? — No! 
No ! You cannot have been told so ; — calumny is not so 
absurd — -she colours her atrocities with a semblance of 
probability. 

Your majesty has been able to perceive, of late, the 
greatness of your influence over your faithful subjects. 
Subordination has been restored in your lately agitated 
metropolis; — the prisoners, liberated by the multitude, 
have voluntarily resumed their chains ; — and public order, 
which, had force been employed, might have deluged the 
city with blood, was restored by a single word of your 
mouth. But that word was one of peace : — it was the 
expression of your own sentiments, which it is the glory 
of your subjects never to resist. How noble is the exer- 
cise of such influence, — which was that of Louis IX, 
Louis XII, and Henry IV, and is the only influence wor- 
thy of your majesty. 

We should deceive you, sire, did we not add, as the 
present state of the kingdom imperiously calls upon us to 
do, that this kind of ascendency is now the only one pos- 
sible to be exercised in France. The French people will 
never suffer the best of kings to be deceived, and, for sinis- 
ter purposes, advised to deviate from the noble line of 
conduct which he himself has traced. You have called 
upon us, sire, to concur with your majesty in framing 
our constitution, and thereby operating the regeneration 
of the kingdom ; and the national assembly now approach 
your throne solemnly to declare that your wishes shall be 



372 APPENDIX. 

accomplished, and the promises you have held out to the 
nation fulfilled — nor shall snares, difficulties, or terrors, 
delay our progress or intimidate our courage. 

Our enemies may affect to say : " But what danger is 
there in having troops?. .What mean these complaints, 
when the deputies declare they are not accessible to dis- 
couragement ?". . . . 

The danger, sire, is pressing, universal, and beyond 
all the calculations of human prudence. 

There is danger for the inhabitants of the provinces. 
When once alarmed for our freedom, we know of nothing 
that could check this danger. Distance alone magnifies 
and exaggerates every thing, increases the public uneasi- 
ness, misrepresents, and gives an envenomed character to 
facts. 

There is danger for the metropolis. With what feel- 
ings would a populace, struggling against poverty and the 
cruel pangs of hunger, see the remains of their scanty 
food disputed by a fierce soldiery ? The presence of 
troops will excite the populace, lead to riots, and produce 
a general ferment, whilst the very first act of violence 
exercised on the people, under pretence pf maintaining 
the public peace, may be the commencement of a horri- 
ble series of misfortunes. 

There is danger for the troops themselves. French 
soldiers, so near the focus of discontent, and naturally 
participating in the passions and interests of the people, 
may perchance forget that an engagement has made them 
soldiers, and remember only that nature made them men. 



APPENDIX. 373 

The danger, sire, threatens that work which it is our 
first duty to make perfect, and which will not be fully 
successful or really permanent, until the people are con- 
vinced that it is the offspring of freedom. There is, 
moreover, contagion in the effects of passion. — We are 
but men ; — a want of confidence in ourselves, or the 
dread of evincing weakness, may carry us far beyond our 
mark — we may be beset with violent and desperate coun- 
sels ; and reason and wisdom deliver not their oracles in 
the midst of tumult, disorder, and bloodshed. 

The danger, sire, is more dreadful still ; and you may 
judge of its extent, by the fears which have brought us 
to the foot of your throne. Great revolutions have re- 
sulted from causes of much less importance ; and the 
overthrow of more nations than one has been announced 
by signs less ominous and less formidable. 

We beseech you, sire, not to give credence to those who 
speak contemptuously of the nation, and represent the 
people to your majesty, as it suits their purpose, — some- 
times as rebellious, insolent and seditious — at others, as 
submissive, docile under the yoke and ready to bow their 
heads to receive it. Both are equally at variance with 
truth. 

We are ever ready, sire, to obey your commands, be- 
cause you issue them in the name of the law ; and our 
fidelity is as unbounded as it is above suspicion. 

We are equally ready to resist the arbitrary commands 
of those who make an undue use of your majesty's name, 
because thev are enemies to the law. This resistance is 



374 APPENDIX. 

imposed upon us by our fidelity alone, and we shall always 
be proud of the reproaches cast upon us for our firmness 
in this our line of duty. 

We conjure you then, sire, in the name of our country 
— in the name of your own happiness and future fame, 
to send back these soldiers to the quarters whence your 
majesty's advisers induced you to call them. Remove, 
sire, we beseech you, this artillery intended for the de- 
fence of your frontiers ; — and, above all, send away those 
foreign troops — those allies whom we pay to defend and 
not to oppress us. Your majesty does not require such 
troops. Why should a monarch adored by twenty-five 
millions of Frenchmen, surround his throne, at great 
expense, with a few thousand foreigners ? 

Let the afiection of your subjects, sire, be your best 
and only guard. The deputies of the nation are called 
upon to consecrate with you the high attributes of royalty, 
upon the immutable basis of popular freedom. But in 
fulfilling their duty — in following the dictates of their 
reason and their feelings, would you expose them to the 
suspicion of having yielded to fear ? Ah ! the authority 
with which every heart spontaneously invests you, is 
alone pure and unmoveable ; it is a just return for your 
benefactions, and is the immortal heritage of princes like 
your majesty. 



APPENDIX. 375 



No. II. 

draft of an address proposed to be made by the 
national assembly to their constituents. 

Gentlemen, 

Your deputies to the states-general, too long kept in 
painful inaction, but from motives which you approved, 
were about to commence their proceedings by the only 
means which seemed to them compatible with your rights 
and interests. 

The majority of the clergy had declared in favour of 
the union ; a respectable minority of the nobles evinced 
the same desire, and every thing seemed to announce the 
happy day which was to give birth to the constitution 
and freedom of France. 

Events with which you are acquainted, have deferred 
this union, and the aristocracy have agarin the courage to 
persist in a separation, of the danger of which they will 
but too soon be convinced. 

Alarm has been spread but too rapidly among us ; the 
metropolis has been thrown into consternation, and even 
the place in which we are now assembled has experienced 
a commotion, against whose effects we have seen precau- 
tions taken which, if they be considered necessary, are 
not the less alarming. All this renders it incumbent 
upon us to guard against the misfortune and disturbances 



376 APPENDIX. 

to which, under such extraordinary circumstances, the 
general uneasiness may give rise. 

The revival of the states-general, after so long an 
interval, the agitation by which it luas preceded, the 
object of this convocation, so different from the motives 
which called your ancestors together ;^ the pretensions 
of the nobles, their adherence to gothic and barbarous 
laws, — but above all, the truly extraordinary means 
adopted to obtain the king's interference, have excited a 
powerful feeling throughout the nation ; and the whole 
kingdom is in such a state of effervescence that those who 
would fain use violence, when prudence and conciliation 
are becoming every day more necessary, are not only 
unworthy of beiiig considered as Frenchmen^ but de- 
serve to be treated as incendiaries. 

From these motives, gentlemen, we consider it our 
duty to present you with a faithful picture of our real situa- 
tion, in order to caution you against the fears and exag- 
gerations by which injudicious zeal or criminal intentions 
might seek to increase your alarm. 

On the day when, with a pomp rather threatening than 
imposing, we were called upon to appear before an abso- 
lute and severe monarch, instead of the supreme chief 
of the state, escorted, as we could have wished, by his 
virtues alone, — on that very day, we had from his own 
Mps the noblest evidence of his vast designs in our favour, 

* The words in Italics are extracted from the king's speech. 
\ From the king's speech . 



APPENDIX. 377 

and of his truly generous and magnanimous intentions. 
Even the forms least adapted to conciliate our minds, 
shall not make us insensible of the real sentiments of our 
king. However we may lament his erroneous opinion 
of us, we shall never have to reproach ourselves with 
injustice. Woe to those who would represent us as dan- 
gerous! We might become so on the day of retribution, 
but it would be to them alone. 

And how could the king's sentiments excite our fears? 
We are, it is true, but little acquainted with his designs, 
but have we not confidence in his wisdom, and is not his 
own interest at stake ? Are not these our securities ? Do 
the aristocracy ever cease to be the real enemies of the 
throne ? Is it not their sole ambition to reduce the public 
authority to fractions ? Are they not endeavouring, by 
bad laws, to cement their prerogatives, their privileges 
and their usurpations ? And is it not an acknowledged 
truth, that the people require but justice, and the great 
alone seek power ? The aristocracy have inflicted the 
greatest of evils upon a long succession of sovereigns, 
whose very virtues they have often rendered doubtful, 
but truth has at length arrived at the foot of the throne, 
and the king, who has declared himself the father of his 
people, will disseminate his benefactions over the whole 
community. He will not uphold the titles of spoliation 
which have been but too long respected. It is to preju- 
dice, obsession, the respect perhaps which even the 
strongest minds sometimes entertain for old customs, and 
the hope of bringing about the union more promptly, 
2x 



378 APPENDIX. 

that we must attribute the declarations in favour of the 
separation of the orders, of their veto, of feudal rights, — 
those remnants of barbarous ages — and of those ruins of 
feudality which would impair the solidity, beauty and 
proportions of the edifice weare called upon to raise. 

The history of all ages, and particularly that of our 
own nation, shows us that whatever is true, just, and 
necessary, cannot be long withheld on the plea of being 
illegal, false or dangerous. Prejudices wear out, and are 
ultimately destroyed by discussion. Our confidence is 
therefore firm and tranquil. You will share in it, gen- 
tlemen, and you will never believe that the persevering 
claims of a great people can be overruled by a few par- 
ticular illusions, adopted by a small number becoming 
daily smaller. You will feel that the triumph of public 
order, when expected to result from measures of wisdom 
and prudence, ought not to be risked by inconsiderate 
agitation. It is for you, gentlemen, to assist us with 
your knowledge and counsels, in the necessary task we 
have undertaken. You will every where preserve calm- 
ness and moderation ; you will be the promoters of order, 
subordination, and respect for the law and its ministers ; 
you will repose the plenitude of your confidence in the 
unshaken fidelity of your representatives, and you will 
afford them the most effective assistance. 

It is amongst a corrupt and venal class of the commu- 
nity that our enemies will endeavour to excite tumult 
and insurrection, which would only embarrass and delay 
the settlement of the great question. ^'Behold the 



APPRNDtX. 379 

fruits of liberty ! behold the effects of democracy !" 
will they not cease repeating, who are not ashamed to re- 
present the people as a furious herd, dangerous when un- 
fettered ; — who feign not to know that this same people, 
always calm and measured when they are truly free, are 
never violent and unruly, except in constitutions which 
degrade in order to render them despicable. How un- 
fortunately numerous are those cruel men, who, indiffer- 
ent to the fate of the people, whom they always make 
the victims of their rashness, create events whose infal- 
lible consequence is to strengthen the hands of authority, 
which, when preceded by terror, is always followed by 
servitude ! Alas ! how fatal to liberty are the acts of 
those who endeavour to maintain it by agitation and re- 
volt ! Do they not perceive that they increase the pre- 
cautions from which the fetters of the people are forged ? 
that they arm calumny with a pretence at least — terrify 
pusillanimous minds, and bring into action those incendia- 
ries, who, having nothing to lose, become auxiliaries but 
to prove themselves dangerous enemies ? 

The number of our enemies, gentlemen, is greatly ex- 
aggerated. Many who are not of our way of thinking, 
deserve not this odious title. Facts often follow words, 
and enmity too readily imputed gives rise to real hostility- 
We have fellow-citizens, who, like us, are seeking 
the public good, but expect to find it in a different 
road from that which we follow. These individuals, 
borne away upon the stream of inveterate prejudice, ari- 
sing from education and early habits, have not strength of 



380 APPENDIX. 

mind enough to strive against the current which carries 
them along. Seeing us in a new situation, they fancy 
that our pretensions will become exaggerated ; impressed 
as they are with the idea that liberty is only a pretence 
for licentiousness, they are in alarm for the safety of 
their property. Let us treat all these men with respect 
and kindness ; pity some, give others time to discover 
their error, undeceive all, and not change into the quar- 
rels of self-love or the war of factions, those differences 
of opinion inseparable from the weakness of the human 
mind, and from the multitude of aspects presented by 
questions so complicated, whose very diversity is useful 
to the public weal, inasmuch as it leads to discussion and 
minute investigation. 

Already, by peaceable means, have we made many 
valuable converts. There passes not a day which brings 
not into our ranks some one who had before kept from 
us. There passes not a day on which the horizon of 
truth does not widen, and the dawn of reason break upon 
the minds of some who have hitherto been dazzled 
rather than enlightened by its strong glare. What 
would have been the consequence, if, in despair of the 
power of truth, we had cast off for ever those whom in 
vain we called upon to join us. We should have de- 
stroyed even the friends we possess among the two first 
orders of our fellow-citizens ; and should perhaps have 
raised an insuperable bar to a union so advantageous to 
France, as that which is now the object of our contem- 
plation. But our present being a pledge of our future 



APPENDIX. 381 

moderation, they must come to the conclusion that our 
acts are guided by justice ; and it is in their name as 
well as our own that we recommend to you that modera- 
tion of which we have already reaped the fruits. 

How glorious will it be for us and the country, if 
this great revolution cost humanity neither crime nor 
tears ! How often have the smallest states been unable 
to acquire even the shadow of liberty, except by sacri- 
ficing the blood of their most valuable citizens ? A 
neighbouring nation, too vain of its constitution, and 
despising the defects of ours, suffered from convulsions 
and civil wars during more than a century, before her 
laws were consolidated. America herself, whose tute- 
lary genius seems now to reward us for the freedom 
which she owes to us, did not enjoy this inestimable 
blessing until she had encountered dreadful reverses and 
doubtful and bloody contests. But we, gentlemen, shall 
see a similar revolution brought about among us by the 
concurrence only of wisdom with patriotism ! Our con- 
tests are simple discussions, our enemies excusable preju- 
dices, our victories not cruel, and our triumphs shall call 
forth the blessings of those who are at last subjugated. 
History but too often records human actions, more suited 
to the ferocity of wild beasts than to man ; and here and 
there she notices a hero ; but we may be allowed to hope 
that we are beginning an era in the history of mankind, 
as brothers, born for the mutual happiness of each other, 
who agree even in their differences ; for their object is 
the same, and their means only of pursuing it, different. 



382 APPENDIX. 

Woe to him who would recklessly corrupt so pure a re- 
volution, and trust the fate of France to the chance of 
uncertain events, when its destinies are not doubtful — if 
we suffer ourselves to be guided by justice and reason. 

When we consider the happiness which twenty-five 
millions of human beings must derive from a legal con- 
stitution, substituted for ministerial caprice, from unani- 
mity of will, wisdom in legislation, reform of abuses, 
decrease of taxation, economy in finances, moderation in 
punishments, consistency in the courts of justice, the abo- 
lition of a host of feudal rights which cramp industry 
and mutilate the human faculties ; from that great system 
of liberty, in short, which reposing upon the municipali- 
ties open to free election, gradually raises itself to the 
provincial governments, and ultimately receives its per- 
fection from the annual return of the states-general ; — 
when we consider all the happy consequences of the res- 
toration of this vast empire, we cannot but feel that it 
would be the blackest of crimes against humanity, to op- 
pose the destinies of our nation, to push it back into the 
abyss and keep it down with the weight of the chains 
which it wore for so many ages. Such a misfortune 
could not occur except from those calamities always at-* 
tendant upon the tumult, licentiousness, crimes and abom- 
inations of civil war. Our fate depends upon prudence ; 
and violence alone could throw doubt upon, or perhaps 
annihilate that freedom which reason has promised us. 

Such are our sentiments, gentlemen ; it was our duty 
to make them known to you, that we might be honoured 



APPENDIX. 383 

by their conformity with yours. It was important to 
convince you that in pursuing our great patriotic object, 
we did not deviate from the right path. 

Such as you knew us when you entrusted your best 
interests to our keeping, such shall we ever remain, 
strengthened in the resolution of co-operating with our 
monarch, not in measures of only transient advantage, 
but in framing the constitution of the kingdom. We are 
determined that each of our fellow- citizens, to whatever 
class he belongs, shall enjoy the innumerable benefits of 
nature and freedom ; that the suffering inhabitants of the 
country shall be relieved, a remedy applied to the dis- 
couragement by which poverty stifles virtue and industry, 
and our laws, the same for all ranks and orders, made 
our common safeguard and protection. [We shall show 
ourselves to be not less inaccessible to the projects of 
personal ambition than to the debasement of fear. We 
ardently wish for concord, but will never purchase it 
with the rights of the people. The only reward we ask 
for our labours, is to see all the children of this immense 
country unite in the same sentiments, happy in the gene- 
ral happiness, and cherishing their common father, 
whose reign is destined to be the era of the regeneration 
of France. 



384 APPENDIX. 



No. III. 

ADDRESS TO THE CONSTITUENTS. 

The deputies who from the national assembly, suspend, 
for awhile, their proceedings, in order to make known 
the wants of the state to their constituents, and, in the 
name of the country in danger, call upon them for their 
patriotic co-operation. 

We should betray the interests you have confided to us, 
did we conceal from you that the nation is now on the 
eve of either rising to a glorious destiny or sinking into 
an abyss of misery. 

A great revolution, which, a few months since, ap- 
peared chimerical, has just been effected in the midst of 
us all ; but its progress having been accelerated by events 
upon which no human foresight could calculate, it has, by its 
impetuosity, dragged down with it the whole fabric of the 
ancient system of government, and without giving us 
time to prop up those parts which it might have been ad- 
vantageous to preserve, or replacing those which it was 
right to destroy, it has suddenly surrounded us with a 
huge heap of ruins. 

In vain have our exertions supported the government. 
It has become completely powerless. The public reve- 
nue has disappeared, and credit cannot raise its head at a 



APPENDIX. 383 

period when there is perhaps more to fear than to hope. 
In letting itself down, this main-spring of social strength 
has relaxed all around it; men and things, resolution, cou- 
rage, and even virtue. If your assistance restore not rap- 
idly the body politic to life, this most admirable revolu- 
tion will be lost ere it be complete ; it will return to chaos, 
whence so many noble works have brought it forth, and 
they who must ever preserve the invincible love of free- 
dom, will not even leave to bad citizens the degrading 
consolation of a return to slavery. 

Ever since your deputies have, by a just and necessary 
union, destroyed all rivalry and clashing of interests, the 
national assembly has not ceased its exertions in framing 
a code of laws applicable to all classes and conditions, and 
the safeguard of all. It has repaired grievous errors, 
broken the bonds of feudal servitude which degraded hu- 
manity, diffused joy and hope through the hearts of our 
husbandmen — those creditors of the soil and of nature 
so long discouraged and branded with shame — re-estab- 
lished that equality between Frenchmen, so long disa- 
vowed — consisting in a common right to serve the state, 
enjoy its protection, and deserve its favours ; in short, it 
is gradually raising upon the unchangeable basis of the 
imprescriptible rights of man, a constitution mild as 
nature, lasting as justice, and whose imperfections, arising 
from the inexperience of its authors, may be easily 
amended. 

We have had to contend against the inveterate preju- 
dices of ages, and much uncertainty always attends great 
2y 



386 APPENDIX. 

political changes. Our successors will be enlightened by 
our experience, for we have been obliged to tread in a 
new path with only a glimmering light of the principles 
which were to guide us. They will proceed peaceably, 
for we shall have borne the brunt of the tempest. They 
will know their rights and the limits of every power in 
the state ; for we shall have recovered the one and fixed 
the other. They will consolidate our work, and surpass 
usj — this will be our reward. Who now would dare 
assign a term to the greatness of France ? Who would 
not, on the contrary, elevate its prospects, and glory in 
being one of its citizens ? 

Nevertheless, the state of our finances is such that our 
social edifice threatens to fall before we can consolidate it. 
The failure of the revenue has diminished the currency 
of the realm ; a host of circumstances has drained the 
kingdom of the precious metals, and all sources of credit 
are dried up ; — the general circulation is on the eve of 
stoppage, and if your patriotism assist not the govern- 
ment in its finances — which embraces every thing, army, 
navy, subsistence, arts, commerce, agriculture and na- 
tional debts — France will be rapidly precipitated towards 
a horrible catastrophe, and will receive no laws save 
from disorder and anarchy ! . . . . 

Freedom will have shone upon us but an instant, to 
disappear forever, leaving us the bitter consciousness 
that we are unworthy of her ! To our own eternal 
shame, and to the conviction of the whole universe, we 
shall owe our evils solely to ourselves. With so fertiie 



APPENDIX. 387 

a soil, so fruitful an industry, so flourishing a trade, and 
such extensive means of prosperity, the embarrassments 
in our finances are comparatively trifling. The whole of 
our present wants would scarcely cover the expenses of 
a war campaign ; and is not our liberty much more pre- 
cious than those mad struggles in which even our victories 
have been fatal ? 

The present crisis once past, it will be easy to better 
the condition of the people ; and no more burthens need 
be imposed upon them. Reductions which will not 
reach luxury and opulence, reforms which will not affect 
the fortunes of any, easy conversions of imposts, and an 
equal <iistribution of taxes, will, by the equilibrium of 
receipts and disbursements, establish a permanent order 
of things ; and this consolatory prospect is formed upon 
exact calculations — upon real and well-known objects. 
On this occasion hope is susceptible of demonstration, be- 
cause the imagination is rendered subservient to arithmetic. 

But to meet our actual wants, restore motion to the 
machinery of government, and cover for this year and 
the next, the 160,000,000 of extraordinary expenditure — 
the minister of finance proposes, as a means which, in 
this emergency, may save the monarchy, a contribution 
proportionate to the income of each citizen. 

Pressed between the necessity of providing immedi- 
ately for the wants of the state, and the impossibility of 
deeply investigating the plan proposed by the minister, 
in so limited a time, we have refrained from long and 
doubtful discussions — and seeing nothing in the minis- 



388 APPENDIX. 

ter's proposal derogatory from our duly, we have confi- 
dently adopted it, in the persuasion that you would do 
the same. The general affection of the nation towards 
the author of this plan, seems to us the pledge of its 
success, and we have trusted to the minister's long ex- 
perience as a surer guide than new speculations. 

The fixation of the amount of their several incomes is 
left to the conscience of the citizens themselves ; thus, the 
success of the measure depends solely upon their patriot- 
ism, and we are therefore warranted in entertaining no 
doubt of such success. 

When a nation ascends from the depths of servitude to 
the glorious regions of freedom — when policy is about to 
concur with nature in the immense development of its 
high destinies ; — shall vile passions oppose its grandeur — 
or egotism arrest its flight ? Is the safety of the state of 
less weight than a personal contribution ? 

No, such an error cannot exist ; — the passions them- 
selves yield not to such base calculations. If the revolu- 
tion, which has given us a country, has left some French- 
men indifferent, it will be their interest, to maintain at all 
events, the tranquillity of the kingdom, as the only pledge 
of their personal safety. For it is certainly not in a gen- 
eral tumult — in the degradation of public authority — when 
thousands of indigent citizens driven from their work, 
and their means of subsistence, shall claim the sterile 
commisseration of their brethren— when armies shall be 
dissolved into wandering bands armed with swords and 
irritated by hunger ; — when property sfeall be threatened, 



APPENDIX. 389 

lives no longer safe, and grief and terror upon the 
threshold of every door; — it is not in such a state of society 
that the egotist can enjoy the mite he has refused to con- 
tribute for the wants of his country. The only difference 
in his fate, in the common calamity, from that of his 
fellow citizens, would be deserved opprobium ; and in 
his bosom, unavailing remorse. 

What recent proofs have we not had of that public spi- 
rit which places success beyond a doubt. With what 
rapidity was that national militia, were those legions of 
armed citizens formed, for the defence of the states, the 
preservation of public peace, and due execution of the 
laws! A generous emulation pervaded the whole king- 
dom. Towns, cities, provinces, all considered their pri- 
vileges as odious distinctions ; and aspired to the honour 
of sacrificing them to enrich their country. You well 
know, that there was not time to draw up a separate de- 
cree for each sacrifice, which a truly pure and patriotic 
sentiment dictated to all classes of citizens, who volunta- 
rily restored to the great family, that which was exclu- 
sively enjoyed by the few to the prejudice of the many. 

Patriotic gifts have been singularly multiplied during 
the present crisis in the finances. The most noble exam- 
ples have emanated from the throne, whose majesty is 
elevated by the virtue of the prince who sits upon it. 0, 
prince, so justly beloved by your people! King, honest 
man, and good citizen! You glanced at the magnificence 
which surrounded you, and the riches of ostentation were 
forthwith converted into national resources! By fore- 



390 APPENDIX. 

going the embellishments of luxury, your royal dignity 
received new splendour ; and while the affection of your 
people makes them murmur at your privations, their sen- 
sibility applauds your noble courage, and their generosity 
will return your benefactions, as you wish them to be re- 
turned, by imitating your virtue and affording you the 
delight of having guided them through the difficult paths 
of public sacrifice. 

How vast is the wealth which ostentation and vanity 
have made their prey, and which might become the active 
agent of prosperity ! To what an extent might individual 
economy concur with the most noble views, in restoring 
happiness to the kingdom ! The immense riches accumu- 
lated by the piety of our forefathers for the service of the 
altar, would not change their religious destination, by 
being brought from their obscurity, and devoted to the 
public service! " These are the hoards which I collected 
in the days of prosperity," says our holy religion ; "I 
add them to the general mass in the present times of pub- 
lic calamity. I required them not ; no borrowed splendour 
can add to my greatness. It was for you, and for the 
state, that I levied this tribute upon the piety of your an- 
cestors." 

Oh! who would reject such examples as these? How 
favourable is the present moment for the development 
of our resources, and for claiming assistance from all parts 
of the empire ! Let us prevent the opprobrium of viola- 
ting our most sacred engagements, which would prove a • 
foul blot upon the infancy of our freedom Let us pre- 



APPENDIX. 391 

vent those dreadful shocks which, by overthrowing the 
most solid institutions, would affect far and near, the for- 
tune of all classes of citizens, and present, throughout the 
kingdom, the sad spectacle of a disgraceful ruin. How 
do they deceive themselves who, at a distance from the 
metropolis, consider not the public faith, either in its in- 
separable connexion with the national prosperity, or as 
the primary condition of our social compact! Do they 
who pronounce the infamous word bankruptcy, desire 
that we should form a community of wild beasts, instead 
of equitable and free men? What Frenchman would 
dare look upon one of his unfortunate brethren, if his con- 
science should whisper to him that he had contributed 
his share towards poisoning the existence of millions of 
his fellow creatures? Should we be any longer that na- 
tion whose very enemies grant us the pride of honour, if 
foreigners could degrade us with the title of BANKRUPT 
NATION, and accuse us of having assumed our freedom 
and our strength, only to commit crimes at which even 
despotism herself would shudder ? . 

Our protesting that our execrable crime was not pre- 
meditated, would avail us nothing. The cries of our vic- 
tims, disseminated all over Europe, would be a louder, and 
a more effective protestation than ours. We must act 
without loss of time ; — prompt, efficacious, and certain 
measures must be adopted ; and that cloud must disappear, 
which has been so long suspended over our heads, and, 
from one end of Europe to the other, has thrown conster- 
nation into the minds of the creditors of France j — for it 



393 APPENDIX. 

may, at length, become more fatal to our national resour- 
ces, than the dreadful scourge which has ravaged our pro- 
vinces. 

What courage would the adoption of this plan give us 
in the functions you have confided to our zeal! And how 
could we proceed with safety, in the constitution of a state 
whose very existence is in danger? We promised, nay, 
we solemnly swore to save the country; judge then of 
our anguish, when we fear that it will perish in our hands. 
A momentary sacrifice is all that is required ; but it must 
be frankly made to the public good, and not to the depre- 
dations of cupidity. And is this slight expiation of the 
faults and errors of the period marked by our political ser- 
vitude, beyond our courage? God forbid! Let us re- 
member the price paid for freedom, by every people who 
have showed themselves worthy of it. Torrents of blood, 
lengthened misfortunes, and dreadful civil wars, have 
every where marked her birth. She only requires of us 
a pecuniary sacrifice ; and this vulgar offering is not a 
gift that will impoverish us ;— for she will return to en- 
rich us, and shine upon our cities and our fields to in- 
crease their glory and prosperity. 



APPENDIX. 393 



No. IV. 

THANKS OF AN ARTISAN TO THE COUNT DE MIRABEAU, 

on his Tnotion against the eligibility of insolvent 
debtors to the legislative assembly, and that of their 
children, unless the latter pay the virile portion of 
their father^ s debts. 

Monsieur le Comte, 

I HAVE neither great wit nor a fine style. All that is 
very common with you, and you will easily dispense 
with it in a poor artisan. But I have some judgment, — 
at least I think so — a feeling of pure patriotism, and a 
lively and grateful heart. These are my claims to your 
attention, and I am sure they will be admitted by so 
good a citizen. 

Ah! Monsieur le Comte, what an excellent law you 
have proposed! What a wise decree you have obtained 
from the national assembly! It is the rallying of honest 
men against rogues. May Heaven bless you, gentlemen ! 
You are the defenders of duped and confiding men, the 
scourge of insolvent dishonesty, and the restorers of in- 
tegrity, honour and filial piety. 

Though this effusion is excited in my mind by grati- 
tude, the latter may, perhaps, be attended with a little 
resentment. And how can I help it ? I was ruined by 
a gentleman ; — I had worked for him several years, paid 
2z 



394 APPENDIX, 

workmen to serve him, and even mad© advances to 
procure him other works in the line of my 'calling. I 
wanted to set up my son, and portion my daughter ; and 
I depended upon this sum, so justly due to me, for the 
settlement of my children, and the payment of a small 
stock in trade, which I had bought. On the eve of re- 
ceiving this money, as I thought, I found that my debtor 
had become insolvent, and fled ; and I thus lost, in an 
instant, the advances I had made, and the fruit of my 
long labour. 

Alas! Sir ; what brought on the disaster of this sense- 
less man, was precisely that which deceived me as to his 
opulence. He had a hotel in town, a house in the coun- 
try, fine clothes, footmen and lackeys ; — I was dazzled at 
this, and my confidence was without bounds. A numer- 
ous and elegant family seemed to answer for the prudence 
of its chief; but I knew not that the children and valets 
were the masters. After the reverse, nothing was talked 
of but robbery, dissipation, imprudence, debts contracted 
by the children, and paid off several times to usurers who 
made a noise ; — whilst poor locksmiths, and joiners, and 
tailors, did not presume to go and claim the fruit of their 
labour. It is a very lamentable thing for a creditor, 
Monsieur le Comte, to want bread, because his debtor 
has squandered millions ; but there is something ^till 
more disgusting to an honest man — it is to see impudence 
the companion of knavery, and to encounter the disdain 
of despicable persons. 

One of the sons of this gentleman who dragged me with 



APPENDIX. 395 

him into ruin, i'S returned to Paris. He is married and 
cuts a figure ; the means by which he does so, may easily 
be guessed. On being told of this, I experienced greater 
indignation than hope ; and I was right. I gained admit- 
tance to his anti-chamber ; but his people knew not what 
I meant ; my claims seemed to be upon their master's 
father and not upon him. As for the gentleman himself, 
he did not choose to see or hear me, nor would he hon- 
our his name by the least attention to a domestic debt. 
After this, his door was shut against me. I presented 
myself at it one (jay just as he was going out, and encoun- 
tered the most dastardly glance that ever audacious scoun- 
drel repulsed an honest man with. 

Your pardon, Monsieur le Comte, for giving you all 
these particulars ; you see my drift ; but I must repeat 
it again, for it relieves me. Ah ! what an excellent de- 
cree, what a consolatorj^ law does the nation owe you ! 
Thus is my gentleman, in spite of his noble birth, fallen 
below his locksmith, because the latter pays his debts, 
and the gentleman does not. And here is his worthy 
son reduced, in spite of his ostentation and insolence, to 
the same level with his unhappy father, whose ruin he 
hastened. Both are less than citizens, because they have 
forfeited the privileges of citizens ; consequently they 
are less than I whom they have despoiled. I hope to as- 
sist at the primari/ assemblies ; my children will perhaps 
become electors, and whilst we are performing such pa- 
triotic duties, it will be the turn of these magnificent 
debtors to respect us. 



396 APPENDIX. 

The law, it is true, gives me no action against the son 
of my debtor ; but the tribunal of public opinion brings 
the action for me. This is a new security for debts, 
which are thus placed under the safe-guard of public 
honour. 

You cannot, Monsieur le Comte, fully appreciate the 
good you have done. Have you been ruined like me, by 
a haughty and pitiless debtor ? Do you enjoy the plea- 
sure of revenge by means so unforeseen, so sure, and so 
terrible ? Are you aware of the proud slateliness of cer- 
tain lords when they condescend to get into a poor devil's 
debt ? Have you an idea of the disgust and rebufifs they 
make him suffer before he can obtain the charity of a 
little justice ? 

Well, sir, your law will remedy all this. The fright- 
ful disgrace attached to insolvency, by giving a greater 
importance to order and economy, will bring the debtor 
and creditor closer together, make each sensible of his 
engagements, prevent any difficulties in their fulfilment, 
and, by placing the honour of the insolvent debtor in the 
hands of his creditors, miake him behave to them before- 
hand with rectitude and honesty.. 

Is not that too common habit of not paying one's 
debts, a species of voluntary bankruptcy ; — that constant 
putting off', to a future day, of shopkeepers, workmen, 
and bearers of bills — or having them thrust out of doors 
by porters, or valets ; and placing them in the cruel al- 
ternative either of losing their customer if they press 
for payment, or of being never paid if they do not press. 



APPENDIX. 397 

I think, sir, that as the loss of certain political rights 
will cast a stigma upon an insolvent debtor, even in the 
person of his children, it will no longer be an honour not 
to pay one's debts. All that petty inattention to prom- 
ises which happens every day, will soon be included in 
the moral effect of the new law against bankrupts. 

And besides, Monsieur le Comte, (pardon me, if 1 
go out of my depth in penetrating the consequences of 
your decree ; but since the national assembly exists, we 
have acquired a new sense — the moral and political taste), 
and besides, it will be a powerful corrector of popular 
opinion. The functions of citizens will be confided, 
not to birth, title, intrigue and ambition ; but to faithful 
industry, honest foresight and propriety of conduct. 
The obscure honest man will enjoy the privileges which 
the titled man will have lost, if he breaks his faith. 

And public offices, Monsieur le Comte ; and the ap- 
pointments in the municipality and magistracy ; and 
the different gradations by which an individual raises him- 
self from a simple citizen to be a representative of the 
nation ! what a noble and true lustre will not each of 
these gradations of rank acquire in addition ? when inte- 
grity and good faith stand sentinel at the entrance of the 
political temple, to repulse all who violate their precepts, 
to be an honest man will become a primary object of 
ambition ; and the first pride of the greater and lesser 
magistracy will be to have no members but honest men. 

Your ideas, on this subject, have doubtless anticipated 
mine. We can appreciate the judgment, by the judge — 



398 APPENDIX. 

the law, by the legislator. The best way to be well gov- 
erned is to make virtue a title of eligibility for yo\ir 
governors; for by perfecting the instrument, you render 
the work more perfect ; — and a public man is the more 
attached to his functions, and studies the more to make 
them useful and respectable, when they are conferred 
upon him as the reward of good morals and propriety of 
conduct. 

Perhaps, Monsieur le Comte, you may think me an 
enthusiast. Pray excuse this soft delirium of ^a patriotic 
citizen. I think that every thing is connected in moral- 
ity and legislation, as in nature. Evil produces evil, and 
good is the source of good ; therefore the latter must be 
done for the sake not only of itself, but of all the advanta- 
ges to which it leads. I can fancy, in this decree, by 
which I am so much delighted, a regenerating principle 
of the national morals. When a law takes into consider- 
ation the honesty of a citizen — obliges him to make his 
first progress in his political career, by a profession of 
purity, and sows early in his heart the goodly seeds of 
virtue, and the noble ambition of public esteem — there 
are no good effects to which it may not lead. You were 
right, sir, in asserting that it is a law which does honour 
to the nation ; but the nation also renders the honour 
due to the founders of such a law. 

Let us now hope, sir, that every citizen will be pene- 
trated with that public spirit which animates our legisla- 
tors, and has produced so celebrated a statute. In our 
immense cities, every thing is fugitive, and without cha- 



APPENDIX. 399 

racter ; there is no lasting impression, and the strongest 
laws leave no mark ; — but in our provinces, in our small 
municipalities — where each individual is under the eye 
of the whole community, and where the moral feeling is 
extremely excitable, and that of honour very irritable — 
your law will do wonders. There it is that its good ef- 
fects will serve as edifying examples to our cities. Fewer 
ruined nobles will be there seen, in future, insulting the 
misery they have caused ; poor artisans will be able to 
pay for their little stock in trade, to set up their sons, 
and to portion off their daughters. They will be more 
fortunate than I ; but they will not feel greater admira- 
tion for their illustrious fellow-citizen, whose exertions 
for our happiness and prosperity are unbounded. 

I am, with respect. 

Monsieur le Comte, 

Your very humble servant, 

R 



END OF THE APPENDIX. 



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